


Pseudo-SEAL

by yanagi



Series: Tony!SEAL verse [5]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-12-04 18:37:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 57,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11561025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yanagi/pseuds/yanagi
Summary: Tony has to requalify for NCIS and SEALs. The other SEALs help him. Gibbs, Tim and Jimmy join him. Coming of age for Tim and Jimmy.





	Pseudo-SEAL

Pseudo-SEAL  
Author’s note: This story overlaps with the previous one just a bit. All notes are at the end of the last chapter. As I’ve written this in one go then divided it into chapters, that’s where they ended up. 

Betaed by Jake and Jordre

.

Gibbs looked around at his living room. It was full of bodies; luckily, not dead ones—Although he was sure that a couple of the men slept like the dead. Jimmy Palmer was sprawled across the couch. This was stranger than it might seem, as Dean and Remy were sitting on it. This meant that Jimmy was actually lying in their laps. 

Tony was curled up in one of the recliners, while Cosmo was in the other. Tim McGee was sacked out in a sleeping bag on the floor. The TV was still running some infomercial or other; sweepers maybe. Gibbs was well aware that, if he turned off the TV, everyone in the room would wake at once.

It had been like this since Abby had broken Tony’s ribs with one of her super-hugs. Tony claimed he didn’t mind, and he probably didn’t, but everyone else was upset, even Abby. When Tony had been discharged from the hospital, he’d gone home, but he’d finally moved in with Gibbs, at his insistence. Cosmo and Dean were moved in for the foreseeable future, paying rent and splitting utilities. They all made sure that Tony, or AJ, took his meds and pain pills, and ate properly. And that had been a full-time job for all of them.

A groan dragged Gibbs from his thoughts. Tim was waking up. 

Gibbs touched him on the shoulder and whispered, “Quiet. Don’t want the whole pack awake at once. You’ll never get a shower.”

Tim absently sniffed his pits then made a face. “Right, Boss. I’ll just ease up to the bathroom. Thanks.”

Gibbs patted him on the shoulder and went into the kitchen to set up the coffee. He was now the proud owner of an industrial, restaurant-size Bunn coffee maker. It barely kept up.

After filling several filters with a pre-measured amount of coffee, Gibbs took the pot out of the Bunn and poured it into a pressure pot, then started another pot. 

While he was doing that, Jimmy woke up and wandered in. He helped himself to coffee, then sat down at the table. “Gibbs.” 

Gibbs grunted. 

“Tony’s going to need watching when he begins his PT again. If he overdoes it at first, he’s going to lose most of the ground he’s gained.”

“I know. I’ve got an idea about that. I need to train up some; got lazy. You need to train. Just do.” He eyed Jimmy for a moment, waiting for some argument, but it didn’t come.

Jimmy thought for a moment then said, “I know. I’m soft, and that’s going to get me hurt, sooner or later. Tim will probably join us. The others?” He made that a question.

“They’ll all train with us. Maintenance mostly. But that’s important too. So ... how do we go about it?” Gibbs wasn’t afraid to ask for suggestions, contrary to popular belief. He just didn’t tolerate stupid ones very well.

“Easy. Tony’s a trained instructor. We just get him to make up a schedule that we can all do. Might hold him back just enough to keep him from hurting himself.” Jimmy peeked at Gibbs over his mug.

“Good. Need to talk to him then.” Gibbs drank coffee. He took the second pot out of the brewer and poured it into the thermal pressure pot. The pump held three of the pots that fit in the Bunn.   
Cosmo wandered in, scratching his butt and grumbling. Dean followed closely behind.

Remy stuck his head in, asked, “Where’s McGee?”

Gibbs grunted, “Shower. Coffee.”

Remy took the offered mug and settled at the table.

They drank in silence, Gibbs making a constant stream of coffee until Tony finally showed. 

He eased into a seat, nursing his still-sore bones. Gibbs plopped a cup of coffee in front of him, Remy made a long arm and then shoved the creamer across the table to him. 

“Thanks. Gibbs?” Tony gave him a questioning look.

“Need to talk to you about PT. For all of us. That schedule you set up before that Homeland fiasco was good. Need another.” 

Tony glanced around. All the others nodded or grunted their assent. “Okay. Challenge is to be SEAL-ready, all at the same time. Gibbs?”

“Count me in.”

Jimmy announced. “Me too. If I’m going to be working with NCIS, I need to be in better shape. I’m gonna get hurt, somehow, if I don’t.”

Tony nodded. “Okay.”

Tim wandered in in sweats. “Okay. I’m takin’ up the challenge, too. I’ll keep up with you two or die trying.”

Tony eyed him. “Yeah. Okay.”

Tim pointed to his face. “See. Serious face. I mean it.” 

Tony just pointed to Gibbs. “He’s going to have to okay it. And Ducky will give you a once-over. Jimmy too.”

Tim shrugged, he’d known that Tony was going to make him jump through hoops to do this.

Tony thought while he ate. “Okay, I’ve got to requal for both NCIS and SEALs. That’s going to take some doing. I’ll set up the program for all of us. I’ve got that spread sheet you made up last time. You do the entries?”

Tim nodded, took the offered coffee and said, “Sure. Just like last time. I know I’m never going to be really good, but I’d like to try my best.”

Gibbs did something he rarely did: he smacked Tim on the back of the head. “Shut it. You and Jimmy can do this. Just might take a bit more time than you like. And hurt more. But I’m at least ten years older than you and I’m doin’ it. Tony?”

Tony nodded. “I’m gonna have ta take a bit more time than usual to get back in shape. Those guys...” he jerked his thumb at Dean, Remy and Cosmo, “they’re all in need of a good rest. We’re all ... mentally exhausted. Command has ordered that we stand down for the foreseeable future, unless there’s a pressing need. So. We take our time and do it right. Jimmy, make appointments with Duck for all three of us. I’d have you examine Tim and me but you’d still need an exam, so we might as well make a play-date of it.” He grinned at Jimmy, who just shrugged and got out his phone.

A quick dial later and he was saying, “Dr Mallard says he’ll be over in twenty. We’re to be ready for him.” He looked at Tony, who was finishing his second cup of coffee. “That means stripped down to minimum and ready to be poked in uncomfortable places, prodded everywhere else and stuck like a pincushion. Ow!” The last was caused by Dean smacking him in the head. “What was that for?”

“Don’t rub it in. Last time he had to take a physical, AJ took off. Had to literally stuff him into a jeep and drag him back.”

Tony announced, “It’s the needles, dude. Hate ‘em. No reason they can’t take all the blood they want all at once. Instead they stick me, take blood, pull out the needle, then decide they want more and do it all over again. Wash, rinse, repeat. Ad infinitum. Sucks.”

Jimmy shook his head. “Military. They’re at least six years behind the times. I’ll do the blood draw on you two, and Dr Mallard will do me. One needle, one stick, multiple draws. He’ll bring vials for all of us; Abby will process it tomorrow. Stop being such a whiny little girl.”

Tony glowered at Jimmy, which had absolutely no effect at all. He just glowered back. “Asshole.”

Jimmy just shrugged, “Comes with being an ME’s assistant. Suck it up and deal.” 

They bickered a bit more, in the way of friends, then sat down to eat after Jimmy assured them that a fasting blood sugar wasn’t one of the necessary tests.

.

Ducky arrived, with his backpack full of medical equipment and vials. He smiled genially around, accepted the mug of tea Remy offered and settled at the dining room table. “Now then. What do you need, exactly?”

Tony explained what they were going to do and what he thought they needed. Ducky agreed to the blood tests but announced that, as he had already certified Tony as healed, all he needed was blood pressure, temperature, pulse and resting respiration rate in addition to the general blood workup. This would establish a baseline to compare against.

Jimmy, with Dr Mallard looking on, took several vials of blood from Tim. Tim just turned his head and took it. He wasn’t needle-shy and it was, as Jimmy assured him, ‘just a little stick.’

Tony, on the other hand, admitted that, try as he might, he was probably going to flinch all over the place. It had nothing to do with the pain; it was all psychological.

Gibbs got up and walked over to Tony. He arranged Tony in his chair, sideways to the table with his arm stretched out on the table then eased close, trapping Tony between his body and the heavy, handmade table. “Easy. Turn your head.” Gibbs urged Tony to press his face against his abdomen, covered Tony’s eyes with one gentle hand and nodded.

Dean touched Tony’s wrist in warning then pressed it to the table with both hands. Jimmy quickly inserted the needle and started his draw, talking all the while. “Okay, Tony. Needle is in. One vial. You think I could learn to shoot? I think I’d like that. Not that I want to shoot someone but target shooting looks like so much fun. Three vials and I’m ... done.” He quickly removed the tourniquet, pulled the needle out of Tony’s arm and pressed a cotton ball to the sluggishly bleeding dot. “Bend. And ... hold. Good.” 

Tony was proud of himself, in that he hadn’t struggled, but he was a bit pink-cheeked that Gibbs had had to hide his face from the needle.

Gibbs shrugged. “Shut up. You need help, I’m here to do it.” he turned to Ducky. “We good?”

“Yes, as soon as I have Tim’s blood, James’ and yours.”

Gibbs made a face. He hated having blood drawn about as much as Tony; he just handled it better.

Gibbs offered his hand to Tony, who took it. Jimmy inserted the needle. Gibbs muttered, “Fuck.” but held still. Tony held Gibbs’ hand through the process, only letting go when Jimmy said, “Bend and hold.”

Then it was Jimmy’s turn. Ducky eased the needle into his arm, drawing a soft hiss from Jimmy’s lips. He bore with the process about the same as Tim had. It was obvious that he wasn’t pleased but he was stoic. 

As soon as all the vials were tucked away in his pack, Dr Mallard excused himself saying, “Well, you’re all healthy as a herd of horses. I’ll take this blood in right away. I want to get it to the lab as quickly as possible; this bag doesn’t have a cold pack.” He stood up and reached for his bag. 

Dean just hefted it and said, “I got it, Ducky. Let me escort you to your car.” He offered his hand to the elderly doctor and pulled him to his feet.

“Why thank you, Dean. I appreciate it. Come along then. You know, my car is a Morgan. Did you know that it has a wooden frame? Mine was quite badly ...” his voice trailed off as the two men made their way to the front door.

Dean returned a few minutes later, amusement plain on his face. “Incredible man. That Morgan is something else. You did a good job on that frame, Gibbs.”

Gibbs just shrugged. “No problem. Mostly straight lines. The bolt holes were a bit rough. Metric. Had to go out and buy a whole set of drill bits for three sizes.” He shrugged, sipped his coffee and continued, “Really worth it though, used ‘em dozens of times since.”

Tim sighed. 

“Man, you blowin’ on your soup?” Remy eyed Tim uneasily.

“No. Just ... I know I’ll never measure up to your standards and ... well, it’s discouraging.” Tim hung his head a bit.

Cosmo reached over and grabbed him by the shoulder. “You’re going to do fine. We’ll see to that.”

Tony snorted. “Man, you’ll do great. You’ve got that ... something that a man needs to be a SEAL.” 

Tim looked up. “What thing?”

“Don’no. Just ... it’s a combination of stubbornness, strength and a willingness to do what needs to be done to do the job. You’ve got it. I have self-esteem issues, Daddy issues, no denying it. But you’re just as bad. I’ll prove you have it. Just give me a chance. All right?”

Tim blinked at Tony, then Gibbs. “Okay. Boss?”

Gibbs just shrugged. “You’re on my team, aren’t you? I’d like to have a real talk with your Dad. I swear.”

Tim frowned for a moment then said, softly, “He doesn’t like to be called Daddy or Dad. It was always Father.”

Tony snorted. “I never called my Ol’ Man anything but Father.” He gave Tim a wry look. “We’re really a pair. So. I’ll start on a PT that we can all keep up with. You three ...” he looked at Dean, Remy and Cosmo. “you’ll stay up to speed by continuing after we fall out.”

Dean just shrugged. “Okay, AJ, that’s fine.”

Gibbs sighed, “Okay, curiosity is killing me. Why do you call him AJ?”

Tony glanced at him then at Tim. “Because that’s what I prefer. When I was a kid everyone called me Junior, because that’s what my father called me. I hate it. Junior is not a name, it’s a generational identifier. Really pisses me off when some condescending ass calls me Junior. When I started RIMA there were five or six Anthonys in my class alone. Popular name about the time I was born. So we all went by initials to keep us straight. Since there were three ADD’s ...” Remy and Tim both snorted laugher while Jimmy just grinned like a loon. “Shut up. Anyway. One of us got stuck with TD, another AD. Since I’m Anthony Junior, I was AJ. I don’t mind that, kinda like it actually. And I really prefer it to Tony. Too easy to mix me up with Father dearest. And I’m really sick of his ‘I’m the real Tony,’ shit. What am I? Plastic?”

Gibbs nodded. “Sounds like me an’ ‘Leroy.’ Rather be called ‘asshole.’ Seriously.” He made a mental note to call Tony AJ, off the job.

Tony nodded. “Right. Like I’ve got a death wish.”

Tim snorted. Calling Leroy Jethro Gibbs out of his name was suicidal. 

.

Tony settled down to work on his training routine; the rest of the guys wandered off to various pursuits. Tim said he was going home to take care of his dog and get out of everyone’s hair. Jimmy also went home to study, complaining that ‘every damn professor he had seemed to think they were the only one who assigned work’. He also complained about his hours at the hospital. He was overloaded, but determined to keep up.

Tony watched as Jimmy left; he did look overtired: shoulders slumped, steps dragging. “Well, he looks about done in. Wonder if ... I think I should make a call.” He got his phone and called Belt, explained Jimmy’s problem and was told that it would be taken care of.

Jimmy would never know, nor would he have cared if he did, that Lieutenant Sam Brown dropped a word in someone’s ear that James Palmer’s student advisor was an idiot. The man was overloaded because he was holding down a job at NCIS, finishing required classes, and working as an intern at Howard University. Something had to give. What gave was the hospital― Palmer didn’t really need OB/GYN, peds, or orthopedics to be an ME. James Palmer was transferred out of the rotation, marked as passed, and was a full doctor in less than 48 hours. When he later asked Tony how that had happened, he was told in a smug, rather self-satisfied tone, “What SEALs want, SEALs get.”

Tony consulted with Gibbs and decided that not only should they start a conditioning regimen, but Jimmy should be taught at least basic self-defense. Enough that, as Gibbs said, he could punch and run. They added daily martial-arts workouts to the list.

Tony and Remy put their heads together and agreed that Dean was the best to teach newbies. He was the most patient of them when it came to that sort of thing.

.

Ducky took his draw to Abby who cheerfully began the tests. These tests were about the same as the ones an MMA fighter would take. They included a general health panel as well as several other tests. Abby sighed and eyed the check sheet. She was well aware that she’d be running the same tests on a regular basis. These tests were just to establish a baseline. Tony’s tests would have to be compared with earlier tests because of his recovery. 

She wondered vaguely if Vance was going to throw a fit. Most of the tests were fairly inexpensive, hematocrit to test red cell levels, basic chemistry panels and so on. But a couple were a bit more expensive: cholesterol and some micro-nutrients, but they were necessary now. 

She ran the tests in between all the things that pertained to cases. She printed out two reports for each set of tests and filed one in her private file. The other went to Ducky.

Abby was well aware that she wasn’t going to see much of her friends and co-workers for a while. She was still working; so were Ducky and Jimmy, but Gibbs, Tim, and Tony were desk-bound until Tony requalified. She’d gotten a note from Ziva that said she was in inpatient therapy for at least 9 months. She’d write again when she could have mail and visitors. Abby sighed; she missed Ziva, but knew that following doctor’s orders was for the best.

Abby glanced at the clock and realized that all her tests were done; she could go home on time, for once. She happily gathered up all her things and scurried out the door before something new came up. She was going to spend the weekend with the nuns. 

.

Tony spent a day getting all his ducks in a row. He had a guideline that all SEALs followed, but it was usually modified to suit the circumstances. In this case, he, Tony, was recovering from injury. Tim and Jimmy were both ‘boots’― raw recruits. He was going to have to be careful with them to make sure that they didn’t overdo and really hurt themselves. Gibbs was somewhere between Tony, and Tim and Jimmy. He wasn’t exactly sure where, so he decided that his first step was to test all of them to see where they were on a scale of one to ten, one being couch potato and ten being SEAL combat-ready. He wasn’t looking forward to it.

Gibbs walked in while he was finishing up.

“What’s that?” Gibbs set a cup of coffee by Tony’s elbow and settled in a nearby chair.

“PT eval. I have to test each of us to see where we are in relation to where we need to be.” Tony explained his rating system to Gibbs then asked, “Your input?”

Gibbs sipped his coffee for a moment. “Well, Tim is a flat five. Good enough for NCIS but ...” He shrugged. “A bit on the flabby side. Willing, though.” He considered for a moment. “Jim is unknown, but I’d say he’s stronger than he looks.” Tony gave him a disbelieving look. “He wrestles those bodies mostly on his own. Ducky’s too old to be that much help.” Tony wrote that down. “As to me. I’m good. A solid seven or eight, depending on your eval. But I’ve been slacking for a bit, just because. Need to get over that.”

Tony nodded. “Okay. I’m a solid eight, so I think you are too. A Saturday on the grinder will tell its own tale. Get an early night that night, up, breakfast, drive to Quantico. Okay?”

Gibbs nodded. “Send out emails and all that. Who’s DI?”

“Not you. Probably be me.” Tony made a face. That wasn’t going to be fun. He hated having to drive his friends like he drove his team, but ... he’d hate it even worse if one of them got hurt or killed because he couldn’t do the job. Besides that, he’d rather be in better shape than the people he was training.

Gibbs watched Tony’s expressive face for a few moments then said, “Don’t worry about being in bad shape. Gives Tim and Jimmy a better idea of what they’re capable of. But, if you’re really worried, we’ll start a week earlier than they do. I’m already running with Dean and Cosmo. Remy comes by about twice a week.”

Tony gave Gibbs the evil eye. “Well, fuck. I’m so screwed. Why didn’t I know this?”

Gibbs gave Tony that sly, wry smile of his and said, “Well, you were a bit busy recovering. And even the pain pills that you can take still make you a bit woozy. That’s why I finally had you move over here for the duration. Deal.” 

Tony nodded and went back to his schedule. “Okay, that means that I need a re-eval. Tim and Jimmy need an eval. You? I’d like an eval just for my own peace of mind. That means...” Tony gave a hollow groan. “Remy as evaluator.”

“He that bad?” Gibbs wondered if there was going to be a problem.

“No, he’s that good. He’ll rack an’ sack us then tell us how fucked up we are. He’s ruthless. But...” Tony sighed. “it’s necessary. I rather not get killed because some jerk didn’t do the eval right.”

Gibbs nodded his agreement. “Right. So, early morning?”

Tony sourly agreed, “Yeah, early. 0600?”

“Yeah. Up, run, home, gym?” Gibbs made the last word a question. Tony nodded. “Then home again, shower, office. We’ll be on cold cases until further notice. You’ll be coming in with me. Strictly desk duty until you’re cleared. I see you even thinking about going into the field and I’ll chain you to your desk again.”

Tony didn’t even bother to think about whining. He had dropped the empty-headed jock act like a used rubber. “Okay. I’d like to run a couple of my specials.”

“Okay. Why don’t you run ‘em by the guys? Might get a different perspective.” Gibbs decided to give up on keeping Tony’s SEALs out of the office. They were on the Yard almost as much as they were at Quantico or Yorktown. In fact, now that Tony was outed they spent a lot of time in MTAC and at the SEAL Tactical Center located in an undisclosed area of the Yard. Tony knew where it was but no one in NCIS did; they didn’t need to. If Gibbs wanted Tony, he could call him on his phone and he’d return to NICS within fifteen minutes. 

“Sounds good. I’ve been thinking that maybe we should run all our cold cases. We’ve got a good solve rate but there are a few cases that ... just bother me. There’s something I’m missing. You know?” Tony frowned at his laptop.

“I do. I’ve got a couple of specials that I’d like the guys to take a look at.” He held up a hand before Tony could even open his mouth. “I know they’re not agents, but when did I ever care about stuff like that?”

“Never, Boss.” Tony just grinned at Gibbs.

Damn straight.” He reached out and shut Tony’s laptop. “AJ, enough. If you open that thing to do more than save, I’m gonna shrink-wrap ya to your rack.”

Tony’s brilliant smile and sparkling eyes told Gibbs that he’d pleased Tony. “Okay, Boss; just let me save and shut down. Then what?”

Gibbs shrugged, “Dinner. The locusts will be back in fifteen.” 

Tony was amused by this. He’d worried when Dean and Cosmo had moved in with Gibbs. He’d lived with Gibbs for a month when the heat and hot water had gone out shortly after he’d moved to DC. They'd driven each other to distraction. Tony had wanted to know what was in every box, drawer, closet and container in the house. Gibbs couldn’t tolerate the nosiness. Tony had moved into a residence hotel for the next two weeks. Turned out that Dean didn’t give a rat’s ass about what was in anything but his room, and Cosmo just went through the kitchen to make sure that Gibbs had a proper wok. 

Per their roommate agreement, which was actually in writing, Gibbs stayed out of Dean and Cosmo’s room except in an emergency. And Dean and Cosmo stayed strictly away from Gibbs' tools and boat; in fact, they stayed out of the basement altogether, unless Gibbs called them down for some reason. The only thing Dean insisted on was household tools; Cosmo and Gibbs had agreed to that. Those tools stayed in the small closet between the kitchen and garage.

Tony was just glad that Gibbs had allowed him to stay in his home during his recovery. That was great as he hated being alone ―as opposed to being left alone― in his apartment, while he wasn’t feeling well. He was taking meds round the clock, and it was so nice to just have someone wake him up, hand him pills, then let him go back to sleep. He hated having to get up, go to the kitchen, get the correct pill, take it, then get back to bed. He didn’t keep pills by the bedside after accidentally taking the wrong one once. He’d been sick for another three days and gotten a thundering lecture from Belt about being too lazy to get up. 

Gibbs was also a bear about eating. Tony was never hungry when he was sick or injured but Gibbs made food and expected him to eat it. It was easier to eat what Gibbs brought him than it was to argue him into taking it away. As a consequence, he was feeling much better, much quicker than normal. 

He knew that his men would stay with him, but he was very reluctant to do that, past a certain point, as there were actual military regs against superior officers accepting services from their subordinates. He wasn’t about to get himself or his men in that kind of mess. His superiors would understand but those above them probably wouldn’t. He leaned back with a slight smile.

Gibbs saw and asked, “What’s that smirk for?”

“Oh, just realized something. I’ve actually got someone to take care of me when I get hurt. Usually, I take care of myself but now that you know my MOAS, I can come to you when I get hurt again.” Gibbs glowered at him. “Oh, come on, Boss, you know damn good an’ well that I’m gonna get messed up again. Hazard of the job.”

Gibbs nodded a bit reluctantly. “Yeah, okay. But you let me know at once. And Palmer and Ducky too.” He opened a pack of hamburger and began to efficiently make up patties. “How many burgers can you eat?”

“Depends on the size. Quarter pounders, four or five. Third pounders, three for sure. Don’t make ‘em any bigger as they won’t cook through.”

Gibbs chuckled softly. “Well, they will, but the outside will be charcoal. I’ll make enough for each of us to have three plus a couple of extras, just so the meat comes out. Start putting out the fixin’s.”

Tony just levered himself up from the chair he’d plopped into and started getting the mustard, ketchup, pickles and whatnot out of the fridge. “Boss, no onion?”

“Should be a thing with some in it. If there isn’t, you could slice one or two.” Gibbs washed his hands for the second time so he could handle the cheese without cross-contamination.

Tony found the onions and took two. “I’ll slice two. Okay?”

“Good.” Gibbs handed Tony a container. “Here. Slice ‘em into this.”

“Gotcha.” Tony peeled the onion and sliced it thin. He wiped his hands and the knife on a paper towel before touching anything else. “Tomato?”

“If you want. I don’t. It makes the bun too soggy.” Gibbs stuck the tray of meat and cheese back in the fridge to stay cold until everyone was home. 

“Boss, you should cover that.” Tony was a bit particular about how things went into the fridge. After giving himself a nasty case of food poisoning due to improper storage he was a bit paranoid.

“Think?” Gibbs rummaged for the plastic wrap. “I don’t usually mess with it if it isn’t going to be more than a couple of hours.”

“I’d rather do and not need to than not do it and get the GI’s. Did that, didn’t like it.” 

“Okay. When you’re right, you’re right.” Gibbs covered the tray with plastic wrap and put it back. 

A few minutes later Dean, Cosmo and Remy showed up for supper. Remy had been in and out while Tony was recovering, taking his turn at DiNozzo Duty with the rest. 

Gibbs eyed them up then demanded, “Where’s Palmer?”

“On his way. Ducky kept him after school. Too many bodies, not enough help. And don’t get all wound up. It was some sort of sabotage of a humvee; one team’s already got it. He said, half an hour.”

Gibbs snorted. “Not a problem and I wasn’t going to go haring off to save the world. Not when I’m down my best man.” He eyed Tony for a moment then added, “Besides, Vance said he’d murder me if I came in without AJ. Seems he’s the only one who can keep me from making the TADs cry.” 

Tony’s phone rang. “DiNozzo.” He listened for a moment then said, “Bring a pound of burger.” he hung up then told Gibbs, “Tim’s coming over. Said he’d bring French fries and stuff. I told him to bring more burger. We got buns?”

“Call him back and tell him to bring a pack. And whatever beer he likes.”

Tony did as he was told and added, “And a six pack for me.” He didn’t bother to put his hand over the phone as he asked, “Guys? Beer?” He wound up telling Tim to bring Cosmo’s favorite too. After hanging up he immediately took up a collection for Tim.

Tim arrived quickly, bearing the meat, buns and beer. He also brought chips.

Cosmo and Dean went to help him carry everything in.

Tim smiled at Dean, then handed him several grocery bags. “Here. How’s AJ?”

“Doin’ good. He’s hundred per now. So, tomorrow the torture begins.” Dean took the bags with a soft mutter of, “What the hell? You buy out the store?” but he ambled off.

Cosmo took the rest of the bags, announced, “You better have brought bar-b-que chips,” and followed Dean.

Tim called after him, “You know I did. And who’s torturing who? Or is it ‘whom’?” He got the beer and followed them in.

He was soon moaning, “I knew I should have kept my mouth shut. I’m a dead man. Gibbs?”

Gibbs shook his head. “Don’t have ta do it.”

Tim sighed, “I know. But I want to. Then again, I don’t.” He looked around, expecting scorn. Instead he saw friendly faces.

Cosmo remarked, rather kindly, “No one likes PT. But we all know we have to do it, if we want to be SEALs. You ought to do it, just for the boost.”

Dean nodded. “Self-confidence builder. So ... in or out?”

Tim sighed, “In. Someone kill me now.”

Jimmy, who’d wandered in while they were talking, interjected, “Well, I’m doing it, just because, so ... no one kill me please.” He eyed Tim, “and you ... get over yourself. You’ll do fine. We’ll all hurt, piss and moan, and do it. So ... when do we eat? I’m starved.”

Gibbs chuckled. “As soon as I burn those burgers. I just hope they all fit on the grill.”

Tony eyed Gibbs’ grill. “If we’re gonna be eating here a lot, you really ought to get a bigger one.”

Cosmo nodded. “True. We’ll all chip in.”

Gibbs shook his head. “I’ve been intending to build a brick one for years. Just didn’t seem worth the trouble for one or two steaks. Now, you two here and everyone in and out all the time... I’m building a grill and smoker. Just need to get the materials.”

Tony eyed Gibbs. “You know how to lay brick?”

“No, but I can learn.” Gibbs gathered up the tray of patties and cheese and headed for the back.

Remy shook his head. “Not a good thing to be learning on. I’ll do it.”

Cosmo nodded. “Good idea. Gibbs, you ought.”

Jimmy held the door for Gibbs and joined the conversation. “Better. We had a guy in ER last month. He’d built his own and something wasn’t done right, or something. Anyway, it blew out on him. Second and third degree burns, face and torso. Not good.”

Gibbs shrugged. “Okay, make a list of what you need.”

Remy shrugged back. “Sure thing. Just need to know where, how big and what.”

Gibbs managed to crowd all the burgers on the grill, just barely. While they were cooking, he and Remy wandered around the patio, figuring out the best place to put the new grill, deciding whether to make it wood or gas and how big to make it. 

They decided on wood with a gas starter, a grill and separate smoker, with a decent-sized prep top and one open burner for things like beans. The grill was to be seventy-four inches long by thirty-six wide. The smoker was to be a separate box, built on the bottom of the chimney, so that the coals could be raked into it from the grill with the addition of all the smoke and heat from the grill being routed through it. Gibbs wanted three 36” x 36” wire racks. Remy agreed to that, but said that it would make the prep top too small, unless they made the grill L-shaped. That meant they had to reverse the arrangement. He was amused to realize that, while Jethro had ideas, he wasn’t that hard to convince. All you had to do was have all your facts in order. 

They ambled back to the grill in time for Gibbs to flip the burgers.

While they’d been measuring, drawing, and deciding, Tony and Jimmy had been fixing buns. A quick bellow had let them know that everyone wanted cheeseburgers, so they’d put a slice of cheese on each bottom, then put pickles and onions on the tops. This left only condiments to add. This they left to the individual, as Tony hated mayo on his, while Tim said he was crazy. Jimmy wanted standard Mickey D, while Cosmo announced anyone who put ketchup on his meat was a barbarian.

They happily squabbled over what was proper for a burger while they drank beer, munched chips and waited for the meat to be done.

Gibbs finally announced, “Well, that’s as good as it gets. Line up.” he started putting finished patties on bun bottoms, letting Tim flip the tops over onto the bottoms and put them on a platter. 

It took two platters to hold all the finished burgers. Jimmy had opened all the condiments and settled in a chair. The rest of the group also settled at the table, bringing beer and sodas with them.

It didn’t take long for everyone to have their food all dressed properly for them. They settled in to eat and talk about their PT schedule. 

They all agreed that their first step was an evaluation of current status, completed by Remy. Then Tony would set up a schedule that catered to the weakest of them, Jimmy and Tim. They finished eating and broke up to head for home. Dean and Cosmo helped Gibbs clean up, then they all plopped in front of the TV to watch something mindless until they went to bed.

.

Chapter two

Tony went home, ignored the gathering of young people in the parking lot and let himself into his now-empty apartment. It was so different from when he’d been really ill, empty and echoing with the ghosts of laughter. It still held a faint scent of eucalyptus. 

He turned on his TV, found a movie to “not-watch,” and settled to veg until bed time. He felt good, but he still wound up sleeping the second he settled.

.

Gibbs woke with a snort and realized that, with people in the house, he’d slept nearly 8 hours, something of an accomplishment for him. He lay in bed for a few precious minutes, trying to figure out what had awakened him. He decided that it had to be the smell of coffee. Or the sound of Dean whispering to Cosmo. 

Since Dean’s whisper was one of those that seemed louder than his normal voice, Gibbs was up and dressed in three minutes. He ambled into the kitchen just in time to hear Cosmo tell Dean, “Chill, dude, leave the eggs out on the counter and they’ll be warm by the time we’re ready for breakfast. I’m not about to run on a full stomach. Puking isn’t on my to-do list for the day.”

Dean, who’d been grumbling about trying to make an omelet with cold eggs, shut up. 

Gibbs demanded, “Coffee. Now. Where’s LeBeau?”

Remy answered. “Here. I’m ready to go, if you are.”

Gibbs gulped down a cup of boiling coffee and settled his shoulders. “I’m ready as soon as the rest are here.”

The knock on the back door was no surprise. Cosmo answered it to find Tony, Tim, and Jimmy standing in the garage. “Well, in or out.” They filed in, carrying bottles of water and duffle bags.

Gibbs eyed them for a moment then announced, “Just walk in, unless the doors are locked. We ready?”

Remy looked everyone over. “Looks like. What’s the deal of the day?”

Tony nodded to Tim. “We’re all just taking a run, then a trip to the gym. Back here for cleanup and breakfast, then in to the office.” He eyed the SEALs and Jimmy. “Or wherever you’re supposed to be. We’ll start the grinder with an eval on Saturday. You’re the sap. Tim will keep records on us all, just like last time. Only this time, he’s expected to keep up.”

Tim moaned piteously and hid his face in his hands. Everyone else laughed, even Jimmy.

They got themselves together and took off for their run.

Tony, true to his usual way, kept moving up and down the line of men, encouraging Tim and Jimmy, hounding Cosmo, Dean and Remy, and pacing Jethro. He worked on wearing himself out until Remy and Cosmo both demanded that he get himself between them and stay there. Gibbs closed the circle by getting behind Tony and snarling, “Damn it, AJ, you’ve already gone half again the distance. Stay put.”

Tony laughed. He settled in place and jogged easily, catching his breath in a way that made Tim envious, but he noted that Tony’s shirt was as sweat-soaked as his.

Tim and Jimmy somehow wound up in the front of the pack; neither one realized that this was so that the rest of the group could be sure that they didn’t out-run them. Jimmy was doing just about as well as they thought he would, but Tim was struggling a bit. 

He was sweating heavily and beginning to pant by the three-quarter point, while Jimmy was sweating, but still breathing easily. Tony was sweating heavily, but not breathing too hard. Jethro seemed to be doing well, sweating lightly and running easily. Cosmo, Dean, and Remy were doing a bit better than Jethro, in that they were barely sweating at all.

They got back to the house in good time. Breakfast was fruit and coffee, easy on a stomach that was going to a gym in just a few minutes. No one bothered to shower; they were just going to get sweaty again. They all piled into one SUV, Remy’s, to go to a nearby gym to work out. Tony announced, “When we’re up to it, we’ll be jogging to the gym and back home again.” He listened to the moaning and pissing for a moment then barked, “Suck it up, SEAL and deal.” Everyone shut.

Jimmy Palmer turned out to have a lot more muscle than anyone expected. He also had, as Cosmo observed, “A hell of a six-pack.”

Jimmy flushed, ducked his head, and mumbled, “You lug bodies out of ravines, up hillsides, and around a morgue and see what happens.” He grinned in that shy, self effacing way of his.

Tony just nodded as if to himself and announced, “Weight room. Now. Then Yoga.” He was not impressed with the response. “Look, we’re all too stiff. One of the best ways to get hurt is to be inflexible. So shut up and deal. I’ll buy the man who planks the longest a smoothie.”

Gibbs had his doubts about yoga but kept his mouth shut. He’d decided that, as Tony was doing all the arranging, and his team seemed to accept his ideas, he’d keep his thoughts to himself and just go along. Little did he realize that Tony’s idea of yoga and Tim’s Grandmother Penny’s ideas were two very different things.

They started out with a stretch warm-up, then on to weights. Tony efficiently sent the young attendant, who thought he’d get a nice tip out of ‘helping’ the older guys, on the run with one hot glower. He was a bit pissed that his regular trainer was off today. 

He put Tim on a machine with Cosmo to watch him; Jimmy admitted that he preferred free weights, so he went to a bench with Dean to watch. Gibbs went to another bench with Tony on spot. This left Remy on a ‘safety’ machine by himself, but Tony kept half an eye on him as well. 

Tim was not happy to find that he was lifting at ‘beginner’ level. He wondered exactly how much he was lifting, then realized that it didn’t really matter. He was doing all he could without hurting himself and had to be satisfied with that. He was lifting for combination—strength and conditioning—so he had to be careful not to lift too much and hurt himself. That would put him way behind. He didn’t realize that he would soon be looking back on this as the easy days.

Jimmy was lifting at intermediate levels; Dean encouraged him to do a few extra reps, making him smile. Dean was good at judging people and their personalities. He knew just how to encourage Jimmy without pushing him to do too much. Both Dean and Jimmy were pleased with his initial workout.

Gibbs lifted like a man who knew what he was doing. Tony hadn’t been aware that he visited the NCIS gym on a regular basis, usually before he came in to work. This resulted in his being at an advanced level. Tony couldn’t help observing, “Shit, Jethro, you’re a beast. What the hell am I doin’ wasting time on this?”

Jethro grunted, “Counting reps ... Next time, I’ll just use ... a safety machine ... and save us some time.”

Tony counted, “Eighteen ... nineteen ... twenty. That’s it. This time I need to see what you can really do. Seeing is believing ... right?”

Gibbs pushed the weight up and onto the rack. “Yeah. Okay.”

Twenty minutes later and Tony and Gibbs were changing places. 

Tony looked around, noted that Dean and Jimmy, and Tim and Cosmo had also changed places, while Remy was taking notes on his tablet. He set himself to work out, with Gibbs spotting and counting. He put on two-thirds the weight he was used to and started working. As Gibbs had, he moved from one exercise to another with ease. 

A complete workout moved from one type of weight to another. This worked out every muscle group and included several machines as well as free weights or safety machines. A safety machine was more controlled and kept the lifter from dropping a weight on himself. Tony decided to have both Jimmy and Gibbs use a machine as, after today, everyone was going to be responsible for their own workout.

They convened, hot and sweating hard, in the yoga room.

The yogi met them at the door with a smile and the comment, “I see that you’re already warmed up. Good, good.” He motioned to the mats, continuing, “Shall we begin?”

As soon as everyone was on a thin rubber mat, the yogi started. “Very good. I will show you the asana, that’s the position you should be in. Each one has a name. After you learn the first, simple, Sun Salutation, I’ll expect you to be able to assume an asana as soon as I name it. We’ll keep to Sun Salutations for now. But we will be working our way up to a full routine that will take between twenty and thirty minutes, depending on how fast you want to go. So. I will demonstrate the asana, name it, then walk around and help you make sure you have it right. At the midpoint of this class, I expect you to be able to complete a Sun Salutation without a mistake. Do not worry, I expect; I do not demand. If it is beyond you, we’ll work on it.”

As he demonstrated, Yogi Michaels named each position, or Asana, explaining, “Each asana has a name; I use English names, as the Sanskrit is confusing to those who aren’t interested in the spiritual side of yoga. First is Mountain pose.” He demonstrated it, and they all copied it easily as it was just standing, more or less, at attention.

Then Hands Reach Up, Back Bend, Standing Forward Bend, Lunge, Plank, Worm, Cobra, Downward Facing Dog, and back through the cycle to Mountain Pose. The poses weren’t that hard, most of them were easily understood from the names, Cobra was harder than it looked, as the scooping motion of Worm into the hard back bend of Cobra was harder than it seemed. Downward Facing Dog was a four-point pose that put everyone’s butt in the air and caused a bit of snickering, quickly squashed.

They all did well, remembering the poses easily. SEALs learned quickly or washed out. Tim had a bit of trouble as the backward bend of Cobra proved that he wasn’t as flexible as he’d thought. Jimmy was a bit of a surprise; he admitted to going to yoga classes with an ex-girlfriend. But Gibbs was the biggest surprise of all. He was a great deal more flexible than anyone had thought he’d be.

Yogi Michaels was pleased and announced that he thought they were ready for their first routine. He called the asanas and everyone was soon sweating as they moved from one to the other at a speed that kept them hopping. Their 45-minute class was over more quickly than expected, and not a second too soon.

Everyone moaned piteously as the yogi announced, “Now for the final Asana. Stop moaning. It’s called the Corpse Pose. Lie down on your mat, arms at your sides, feet shoulder width apart and relax.”

There was a bit of shuffling as everyone got comfortable. They were talked through a relaxation that allowed them to cool down without chilling. After ten minutes Yogi Michael said softly, “And now, get up when you feel like it. Do not rush around, getting ready to leave. Take your time. Be sure to drink plenty of fluids and eat a good meal. Namaste.” He left, leaving them to collect themselves and their things.

Dean groaned, “Man, I’m gonna hurt tomorrow. Yoga! Who knew?”

Tony laughed at him then said, “Me. I took some when I was a kid at RIMA and sorta kept with it.”

Gibbs snarled, “AJ, you ... I swear, I feel like I’ve been pulled through a knothole sideways.”

Tony took a chance. “Well, Jet, deal. It’s gonna get worse.”

Tim whimpered, “Oh, my God. Worse?”

Jimmy, unknowingly, repeated the SEALs motto. “Man, the only easy day was yesterday. It’s gonna come in waves, so get over yourself. Water.” Cosmo, Dean and Remy nearly hurt themselves laughing. Jimmy looked around then announced, “I know that wasn’t inappropriate.” He caught the bottle of water Gibbs tossed him and downed half of it in two gulps.

All the SEALs said, in unison, “Yesterday was easy, today was hard, tomorrow will be a raving bitch.” Tim just hid his face in a towel. Gibbs smirked.

They drank water and Gatorade, and handed around ‘recovery’ gels that Jimmy produced. These were made by Abby and contained micronutrients and electrolytes to replace those lost by exercise and sweating. 

Tony nodded to the group and demanded, “Plank. Now.” They all assumed the plank position, balancing parallel to the floor on their hands or knuckles. 

Tim fell out first, then Jimmy. Remy was next. Dean and Cosmo dropped out at the same time, leaving only Tony and Gibbs. They managed two minutes almost to the second and dropped together. 

Tony laughed and declared, “Jet, you’re the most stubborn bastard I’ve ever met. I owe you a smoothie.”

Gibbs snorted. “Give it to Tim. Don’t like that crap. Coffee.” He wiped sweat off his neck with a towel that Remy handed him. “As to stubborn? Damn straight. Come on.”

They headed out to the SUV swearing and moaning. They were all going to be sore, SEALs included. Tony eyed Jimmy and Tim, they both were moving a bit stiffly but didn’t seem to be in any real distress. He nearly lost it when Jimmy told Tim, “Oh, shut up, you girl, I’ll give you some Vitamin M when we get to work. But not until. You have to eat first. I wonder what Jethro has in mind.” He waited until Tim was in the back seat, then clambered into the middle seat with a smirk. Tim protested weakly but gave it up as a bad job when Cosmo settled beside him.

Tony took the wheel, as none of the SEALs would ride if Jethro was driving. Gibbs took shotgun and everyone else managed to cram themselves into the vehicle.

.

Breakfast was a quick, down-and-dirty deal of scrambled eggs mixed with the omelet fillings, as they’d realized that individual omelets would take too much time. Tim toasted bread while Gibbs scrambled and Tony made coffee. The rest stayed out of the way. They’d clean the kitchen after. And they all had to take showers. 

This led to the first argument of the day. Dean and Cosmo took the master bath and guest bath, respectively, and showered. Remy thought he’d have time to shower too, as they could all manage a decent shower in about five minutes, but the hot water heater ran out. Remy’s swearing led to Dean calling him a sissy. Remy popped Dean with a towel. That led to Dean chasing Remy around the living room; both of them started to wrestle and fell on the coffee table, which collapsed under their combined weight. 

Gibbs whistled loudly and announced. “Okay, that’s enough! You two are too old to act like a couple of middle-schoolers. Sit down.”

They sat, apologizing all the while. Tony just snarled, “You’ll be replacing that out of the next pay.”

Dean looked mortally offended, while Remy calmly answered, “Of course, what do you think we are?”

Gibbs shook his head, plopped a bowl of eggs on the table and barked, “You really want me to answer that, squid?”

“Um ... on second thought, no. Really sorry about that.” Dean took some eggs, then passed them on.

They spent the next few minutes filling their plates. Jimmy finally asked, “Um ... seriously, that table was ancient. They shouldn’t have been wrestling in the house but it really isn’t that big a loss?”

Gibbs shrugged, “House rule. You break it, you buy new.” he eyed Remy then Dean. “But, in this case, you two lugnuts will be buying wood. I’ll build a new one.”

Tony snickered at the sight of their relieved faces. “Great idea. What are you looking at?”

Gibbs smirked as he replied over his mug, “Thought a nice solid top of mahogany, or maybe cocobolo or bocote. Parota is nice.” Everyone winced. Due to Gibbs’ hobby they were all well aware of the price of the exotic hardwoods. Some of them came in at over $100 a board-foot. 

Dean hid his face, while Remy just grimaced. The rest of the group just snickered and continued eating.

When they were done with their meal, Gibbs announced that he was taking a shower, as was Tony. Tim, Cosmo, and Jimmy would have to wait until the hot water heater recovered again. He also promised that he wouldn’t count them late. Cosmo thanked him with awful politeness then remarked, “Although, your permission doesn’t mean shit as you aren’t my commanding officer.”

Tony called over his shoulder as he left for his hot shower. “Yeah, but I am. Choice: be late, or cold shower. Up to you.”

Cosmo yelled after him. “I’d rather take a cold shower than put up with the chewing-out I’ll get for being late.” 

Tim and Jimmy decided to wait. Jimmy could ride in with Tim, as his old car was on the mechanic’s buddy list. 

Showers duly taken, they all headed out for wherever they were supposed to be, except for Tim and Jimmy, who had to wait another twenty minutes for Gibbs' old, cranky hot water heater to do its thing.  
.

As they drove in together, Gibbs told Tony, “I need to do something about that water heater. It’s old and barely keeps up with me. Guess it’s time to go to the home improvement center.”

Tony grimaced, “Don’t look at me. I can hand-build a claymore, field strip and clean almost anything that goes bang, but plumbing? Hope that boat holds water. Seriously.”

“Don’t sweat it. I can deal, and Cosmo is good. We’ll manage. I mean how...” Tony clamped his hand over Gibbs’ mouth. Gibbs was startled enough that he nearly slammed on the brakes.

Tony turned horrified eyes to his best friend and boss. “Oh, no, Boss. Do not say that. Sure jinx. Never, ever ask how bad it could be. Fate is a nasty bitch and will show you just how bad it gets.”

Gibbs, well aware of battle superstitions, just shrugged. “Okay.”

They pulled into Gibbs’ parking place, checked in, and went to their desks. 

What they discovered made Gibbs snort. 

Ziva’s desk had been cleared out and was now actually empty of everything. Her computer had been taken down to IT for a good scrub. Tim had grumbled that he could do it, but Vance had told him that, since he was on Gibbs team, he’d rather have IT do it. That way there couldn’t be any hint of favoritism or malfeasance. So now all that was on it was a blotter, lamp, and pen holder. The drawers were empty. Tony had checked before he sat down. 

So Tony tried to decide who would get what case of the huge pile Gibbs had plopped onto his desk before heading upstairs to see Vance. Tony sorted quickly, keeping the cases he considered the most difficult to split between himself and Gibbs. He gave Tim the computer-tech-heavy stuff and split the simple cases into three piles.

He then settled down to read. He figured that Dean, Cosmo, and Remy would spend most of their time in MTAC or SEAL DC, but he intended for them to experience what he did. He hoped Vance would OK it.

It turned out that Vance was fine with his team helping out his other team. He shook his head; that was going to get confusing.

Gibbs eyed Dean and Cosmo; Remy had announced that he was working on something for SecNavOf so he couldn’t do cold cases. He looked very smug about that. Tony snarled wordlessly at him but let him amble off to do whatever.

Dean took Ziva’s old desk, while Cosmo took the desk behind Tim’s. No one used it much, because the cubicle divider put it out of the bullpen. It was relegated to occasional use by visitors or TADs. Cosmo eyed the partition and Tim’s area. The chest-high wall between Tim’s area and the isolated desk was covered with all sorts of ‘stuff:’ Pictures, notes, reminders, wanted posters and who knew what else.

“Tim. You really use all that shit?” Cosmo gave Tim a hopeful look.

“Not really. I could just file it all. Let’s move that partition to the other side of your desk. We can’t take it down completely. We tried that, and people started wandering through the bullpen. Drove Gibbs nuts. Me too.” Tim got up and started taking papers off the wall. “I’ll just file all this.”

Cosmo shook his head. “We can move that filing cabinet over to the other side of my desk. I’ll file all that shit for you. We need tools.”

Tony pulled out his bottom drawer. “Here. Not much, but enough for everything around here.” He handed Cosmo one of those clamshell kits that had a bit of everything. “You won’t need a hammer. All you have to do is unscrew the braces from the foundation wall and pick it up. It’s on feet.”

Cosmo looked and realized that the partition was held to the back ‘wall’ with angle irons, screwed into the uprights. The back wall had been permanently fixed to the floor with ‘shot’ bolts. “Gotcha. Won’t take more than five minutes.” He took the tool kit and went to work. 

He was right; it took them five minutes to unscrew the screws, pick the wall up and move it, then reset the brackets. 

“There. Now what?” Cosmo eyed the pile of folders that Tony flopped on his desk. “Um... yeah?”

Gibbs nodded to the files. “Just read them over. Make notes on anything that seems odd or out of place. New eyes sometimes see what old eyes have missed. These cases are up to ten years old. But NCIS hates to give up on anything.”

Cosmo nodded. “Okay. Dean?”

Dean looked up from the file he was reading. He’d gotten the lowdown while Cosmo and Tim were moving the wall. “AJ, I think I’ve got something. The ballistics on this don’t seem right. Now what?”

Tony didn’t even look up from his own file. “Take it down to Abby and have her check them.”

Gibbs shook his head. “Can’t. Her lab is still shut down. Won’t be back up for another ...” he looked at a note on his side wall, “two days. Get McGee to check.”

Tim looked up at the mention of his name. “What do you need?” He finished putting Tony’s tools back in their case, and put it on the end of Tony’s desk. 

Dean handed the file to Tim. “Here. Can you run numbers on this? The ballistics don’t compute in my tiny brain.”

Tim eyed the diagrams and numbers on the form. “Mmmm. Don’t ...” Tim entered the information in his program, one he’d written himself. “It’ll take a minute or so.” He winced as he sat down. He was going to hurt, he knew it.

Dean twisted where he stood. The unaccustomed activity of yoga had him hurting too. “Need something?”

Tim thought for a moment. “Couldn’t hurt. But I don’t have anything except some Motrin. 200 mg.”

Dean snorted, “M&M’s, man. Here.” he pulled a bottle from his pocket and dumped two capsules into his palm. “Grunt Candy.”

Tim took them and chased the huge things with a gulp of water. “Ugh! Damn it, those things are like swallowing a football.”

Tony shook his head, “They’ll take at least half an hour to work, too. Why do you think we chew ‘em?”

Tim thought about that for a second. “Only reason I can think of will get me on the mats with Gibbs. So ... no idea at all.”

Gibbs broke in, “It’s not a case of ¿quién es el más macho?; it’s a case of making it work faster.” he then returned to his contemplation of an inventory. 

Cosmo settled in to read through another file. He’d found something in the first file, written up his notes and put the file aside for Gibbs to review. As they weren’t agents, they couldn’t do anything themselves. The notes went to Gibbs, who would assign the case to a team of probies. They would do the footwork and return their assessment to Gibbs. This was a good way to train new agents.

They spent most of the morning going over cold cases. 

Tony called a halt at 11:30. “Okay, people, time for lunch. Who wants what?”

Cosmo looked up. “Food would be good.” He return to the file he was glaring at.

Dean stood up. “I’ll go with. Fetch an’ carry.”

“I’ll take a goat burger with feta and lettuce.” Gibbs didn’t even look up.

Tim said, “Me too. And fries. Or maybe not.”

Tony blinked. “We don’t want ... um ... Damn it. McGee, you’re not bulimic or something, are you?”

McGee was well aware that Tony was referring to his recent major weight loss. “No, I’m not. I just got some ... bad advice. But I don’t want to put too much back on. No sense in losing ground.”

Tony frowned, “I’d like a word or two with your ... advisor.” Gibbs snorted. “Well, I would.”

Tim shook his head. “Don’t bother. Penny had a word with him.” Those who knew Penny shuddered. 

“Anyway, think about how many calories you’ve burned today. I eat about 5000 a day and have trouble keeping weight on. Dean and Cosmo eat about the same, while Remy eats more.”

Gibbs nodded, looking up from his file. “I eat about the same as AJ, Dean and Cosmo. You don’t think I’m fat, do you?” His tone of voice said he’d better not.

“Oh, no, Boss. I just ... it was so hard to lose what I did and I’m putting back on what I need to, but I don’t want to gain too much and have it all to do again.”

Tony eyed Tim for a moment. “Take my advice and you won’t. Chicken salad wrap for you, with a side salad. The worst thing you can do is be hungry. You’ll break over and eat all sorts of things you shouldn’t. If you want pizza, buy a slice. See?”

Tim admitted he did. He also thought for a moment then asked for sweet tea. “And not that sugar substitute crap. It just makes me want sweet even more.”

After taking everyone’s order, Tony called down to the morgue to see if Jimmy and Ducky wanted anything. Ducky replied that he and Jimmy had just been called out by another team and would be eating together later.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was a tough man, a Marine. He was also a pragmatist, and he hurt. He fished around in his desk and came up with a bottle of what he called Vitamin M. He chewed three, dry, and went back to work. “Man, am I out of shape.” 

Tim looked up. “Sorry, Boss?”

“Nothing. Those ballistics work out?”

Tim clicked on this and that and brought the results up on the big screen. “Well, they don’t check out. See?” he went into detail, making sure that Gibbs got everything he knew.

Gibbs eyed the screen for a moment then picked up his laser pointer. “According to my figures. Off the top of my head. The shooter was here.” He pointed to a rooftop. “Not here.” He pointed to a hill in the middle distance. “So, it wasn’t a hunting accident, it was murder, just like the man’s wife claimed. Give everything to Balboa.”

“Okay, Boss. Um .. Boss?” Tim wasn’t sure how to ask his question so he just plunged in. “You hurting?”

“Damn straight, I’m hurtin’. Why?” Gibbs braced himself for some ‘old age’ comment.

“Just wondered. Makes me feel a bit better.” Gibbs glowered at Tim. “Oh, not that you’re in pain or anything like that. Just that ... If you’re hurtin’ too. I ... well, I’m so stiff, I might not get out of this chair without help. So. Just ... weird, but I feel better about myself. See?”

Gibbs did. “Misery loves company.”

Tim grimaced. “Sort of.” He subsided, sticking his nose back in his work.

Gibbs watched him for a moment then smiled to himself. 

The two SEALs came back with the food and passed everything around. 

Tim noticed that no one ate things like fries; they all had salad instead. Tony and Dean stuffed most of the salad into their sandwiches, while Gibbs squeezed lemon over his and added a drizzle of oil from a packet that came in the salad box. Tim decided to split the difference, until he noticed that his chicken salad had a lot of lettuce on it already. 

They all ate at their desks but chatted about this and that. All the cases were cold, so there was no particular pressure to do things now. 

As they were going back to work, Tony noticed one case that made him scowl. The Hernandez case came up from time to time. The Mexican government kept pushing it; SecNav let the shit roll downhill, instead of dealing with it. 

“Boss?” Gibbs looked up at him, mouth full of the last bite of his sandwich. “When you opted out, did you transfer to Reserves or what?”

Gibbs swallowed then replied, “I took terminal leave. I had 120 days built up. My CO thought it was a good idea if I took time off before I signed up at NIS. Why?”

Tony got up and walked into Gibbs' personal space. He squatted down, balancing on the balls of his feet, to get closer to Gibbs. He continued his questions in a soft voice. A voice that no one but Gibbs could hear. “So, when you went down South and dealt with a certain problem, you were still in the Corps?”

Gibbs wondered where this was going but answered easily enough, “Yeah, technically; I was on leave.”

Tony eyed him up and down, then demanded, “And how many times were you ... on leave ... when you were on an op?”

“Half a dozen. You gonna tell me what the hell you’re up to?” Gibbs wasn’t annoyed, he knew Tony had a good reason for his questions.

“Hernandez came up again. I’m sick of that mess. Boss, if you were one of mine, I’d have you in SID for 90. Idiot.”

“Yeah.” Gibbs admitted that the Hernandez mess hadn’t been one of his brighter ideas.

“Okay. I got a call or two to make. And, Boss?” Tony smacked Gibbs in the back of the head.

“Ow.” Gibbs just went back to his case.

Tim eyed Tony like he’d lost his mind. Dean and Cosmo were wide-eyed too.

Tony got on the phone to his commander, Captain Rafe McKinley, the East Coast Commander. He explained the problem and his suggested solution. It wasn’t 20 minutes later that a group of Marines in dress blue Charlys came in. One went to Tony’s desk, saluted and asked, “Are you LtCmdr Anthony DiNozzo?”

“I am. How can I help you, Master Gunny?” Tony knew exactly what was going on but he wasn’t about to let on.

“You can hand over everything you have on Operation Mexico, Sir.” The Master Gunny wasn’t about to offend, but he had a job to do and he was going to do it.

“Operation Mexico? More information is required for me to figure out what, exactly, it is you want.” Tony returned the Marine’s level look.

Master Gunnery Sergeant Oppenheimer was no man’s fool. “It’s also called the Hernandez Op.”

Tony nodded, “That mess. The Mexican Government makes a point of annoying us about it at least once a year. Why isn’t it marked classified?”

“No one connected the two until recently. I’m sorry to be importunate, sir, but I’d like to get this taken care of with a minimum of attention.” The Master Gunny shifted uneasily.

“Very well.” Tony shuffled files until he ‘found’ the one in question. “Here’s my hard copy. There’s also a hard copy in files, and an e-copy on the main server. You can take care of that?”

“I have one of my men in Director Vance’s office as we speak.” He paused as his phone began to ring, “If you don’t mind, sir.”

“Go ahead.” Tony listened, with some amusement as Director Vance’s voice informed Master Gunny Oppenheimer that, in order to get the files removed from the server, he had to speak to Timothy McGee.

“Sir, could you point me to the desk of Special Agent Timothy McGee?”

Tony pointed to Tim. “Right there.”

Tim looked up from where he was pretending not to be watching. “Yes?”

The Master Gunny produced an order from the leather portfolio he carried.

Tim took the order form and examined it carefully. “Okay, remove all traces of a classified special black op involving this information.” He sucked his lip for a moment then glanced at Tony. “Legit?”

“Yeah. Just do it, Probie. You’re not responsible for this. Follow orders.” He stared at Tim for a moment, trying to convey how important this was.

“Okay. Just makin’ sure.” He jumped a bit when his phone started to ring. He picked it up, barking, “McGee.” After listening for a moment he said, “Yes, sir, Director Vance. I’m right on it.” He gave Gibbs a seraphic smile, sat down and started working his magic. “I’m going to use a worm to remove even the backup of backups. It’s against NCIS policy but, in this case, orders are orders.” He smirked at Tony who smirked right back.

Gibbs, meanwhile, was reading orders from someone on the Secretary of the Navy’s staff and backed by the Commandant of the Marine Corps. These orders stated that he was not to discuss any detail of the sanctioned removal of one Pedro Hernandez with anyone without clearing it through the Office of the Secretary of the Navy first. The op was classified and no one was sure how it had slipped through the cracks. He was commended on his personal sacrifice and dedication to duty.

“DiNozzo.” Gibbs gave Tony a fulminating look.

“Gibbs.” Tony glowered right back.

Gibbs sighed, rubbed his face, then gave up. “Fuck it.” He signed where indicated and handed the papers back to the grim-faced Corporal. 

“Sir, I hope you understand the significance of this order.” Before he could make even bigger a fool of himself, Cosmo came to his rescue.

“Medal of Honor, dude. Look him up.” 

The Corporal glanced at his tablet, gulped and snapped to ramrod straight attention. “Sir!”

Gibbs saluted back. “As you were. Relax. I know my p’s ’n q’s quite well. I assure you that I will observe all appropriate rules and regs in relation to classified information.” Gibbs waited, wondering who else was going to salute him. It made him uncomfortable for anyone to salute him while he was in civvies. 

He didn’t have to wait long as a trail of men showed up in short order. Two of them were carrying boxes of files. After quick, whispered, discussion the boxes were set on Tony’s desk and the men all formed up in ranks, snapped to and saluted Gibbs. He saluted back with good grace.

“Sir, all paper copies have been collected, inventoried, and accounted for.” 

Tim looked up. He nodded at the Master Gunny’s questioning look. “All files are not only deleted but written over ten times. It’s gone.”

And with that simple statement they were done. The Marines gathered up the papers and strode out.

Tony eyed Gibbs. “Any comment?”

Gibbs didn’t say anything, he just smiled that sly, secret smile of his.

.

Chapter three

They worked quietly until about 1500, then Tony just got up, announced, “I’m going for a swim. Anyone?”

Gibbs blinked himself out of his current file, thought about swimming in the NCIS pool and shook his head. “No, got a handle on this one. Don’t want to break my concentration.” He went back to his reading.

Dean and Cosmo got up, silently joining Tony. 

Tim shook his head, commenting, “I don’t think that’s a good idea for me. Yet. I’ll do laps later.” He gave Tony a sly, sideways look. “I’m double checking a few things on that Hernandez removal. I think there are a few files out there that shouldn’t be. Just a quick ... fix.”

Tony knew exactly what Tim was doing. M. Allison Hart had a file. She wasn’t the sort to keep paper around, so most of her files were electronic. Tony didn’t like Ms. Hart much. She was a nuisance more than anything, but still. Tim didn’t much like her either. She had a bad habit of flirting with him when she wanted something and ignoring the ‘Geek-boy’ when she didn’t. She wasn’t going to be best pleased very soon. Neither was the Mexican government. Their files would be corrupted into uselessness. 

Tony pinned Tim with a warning look. “Do not get caught.”

Tim’s pellucid, innocent look didn’t fool anyone. “Now what could I possibly be doing to cause that remark?”

“Oh, nothing much. I’m swimmin’” Tony left.

No one thought much of it until Gibbs realized that the NCIS pool wasn’t open until 1700. “Where the hell are they swimming?”

Tim, not really thinking about that, replied, “The river. That’s why I didn’t go. Can’t swim the distance yet.”

Gibbs, remembering the swim in which he’d overloaded his ass, just went to the window to see if he could see them.

.

Tony eyed his men. “Okay, you two, once across?”

Dean nodded. Cosmo agreed, “Once is good. Build up to more?”

Tony considered that for a moment. “No. But I want Tim and Jet to both make that.”

They ambled into the NCIS locker room, got lockers and changed into wet suits. The river was just cold enough that swimming in it in trunks wasn’t a good idea. Tony had found that out the hard way. He usually did swim in just trunks, until Gibbs had found out and given him a thundering lecture about necessary and not-necessary. Tony had actually agreed with him. Most of their missions didn’t involve swimming in seriously cold water so the conditioning wasn’t necessary. If they were going to go on a mission where cold conditioning was necessary, they’d know in plenty of time.

Tony eyed Dean, then Cosmo; they’d both gotten their suits on and were digging flippers out of their duffels. “Leave ‘em. We’ll barefoot it.”

Dean just tossed his flippers back into the locker but Cosmo grumbled, “Man, AJ, brutal.”

Tony just snarked back. “Whiny. Suck it up.”

They left, never knowing that two of Tony’s fellow SFA’s were on the other side of the lockers. One looked at the other, then said, “Swim? Fins? Where the hell?”

“Don’t know. Let’s follow them.” 

What happened next wasn’t a surprise to the skeleton crew of the USS Barry DD-933, they were used to seeing Tony dive off the end of the pier. One man noticed that there were three men this time. He radioed up to the bridge to tell the Captain, just to be on the safe side. The Captain ordered a sailor to find a good vantage point and keep an eye on the swimmers.

Tony, Dean and Cosmo set out in a combat crawl, headed for the other side of the river. Dean and Cosmo were chasing Tony in no time.

Tony swam like a dolphin; he seemed to be one with the river. Cosmo and Dean were less graceful, but not enough so that anyone not an Olympic swimmer would notice.

They waded out on the far shore.

Cosmo shook water out of his high-and-tight. “We swimming back?”

Tony shook his head too. “Nope. We’ll jog back. There’s a foot path on S Capitol St SE bridge over the river about a mile and a half downstream, then we’ll jog back up to NCIS. Dean?”

Dean was smiling. “You’ve been playing possum, asshole.”

“Not. Just ...” Tony smirked a bit. “Enjoying being coddled. Seriously. It’s the first time in ages I’ve been able to completely heal before I had to ... man up for NCIS, or a mission, or ... something.”

Dean sighed, “Man, you know, I sorta feel the same way. I don’t mind training up, but, just sometimes, I like to slack off. It’s nice. Mental rest as well as physical.” Cosmo snorted. “No, man, it’s like ... if I can’t do it in the Rockpile or the Sandbox, someone dies. If I can’t do it here ... I’ve got a do-over. See?”

Cosmo grumbled. “I do. And what the fuck are we going to do for shoes? I don’t like the idea of running miles in bare feet.”

Just then a ‘junior’ SEAL drove up in a GI jeep. He hopped out and saluted. “Sir! Your gear and boots, sirs!” He pulled uniforms, boots and packs out of the back.

Dean snarled, “AJ, you utter bastard.” but went to collect his things.

Cosmo gave Tony a rather heated glower but did the same.

Tony smirked at their backs then saluted the driver. “Thanks.”

“Sir!” The boy, and he was a boy to the older SEALs, being about 25, watched as they got themselves dry and their clothing on, without showing anything they shouldn’t. His eyes got wide as he listened.

“Son-of-a-fucking-bitch. It’s a full pack. Damn it, AJ.” Dean was whining and didn’t care who heard.

Cosmo grumbled, “Fucking Fucker. Assume the Marine position, Dean. AJ’s on a damn roll.”

Tony just hefted his pack, a bit doubtfully, he’d admit. This was the first test of the plate on his clavicle. “Suck it up, girls. Pissing and whining isn’t going to do you any good. I gotta carry it, you gotta carry it.”

Dean nodded wisely. “Cosmo, my man, NOGAD. So deal. AJ’s right.”

Tony sighed, he was hard on his men and he knew it. But being captured because you couldn’t keep up would be even harder. He knew this from personal experience, an experience he intended to make sure his men never experienced again. 

Cosmo hefted his pack. He jumped a bit as Tony reached out to help him on with it.

Tony cupped the back of Cosmo’s neck. “NOGAD. Man, so not true. I give a damn. That’s why we’re doing this and you know it.”

Dean mumbled. “Doesn’t mean we have to like it. Sorry, AJ.”

Tony got his pack on, smacked a waiting Dean on the ass and barked, “Hoof it, you SEALs.”

And hoof it they did. They ran down the Anacostia Trail on the park side to the bridge, across the bridge and around a small wall on the corner of S Capitol and Potomac Ave and into a sand lot on the river. The other end of the sand let into the Anacostia Trail on that side of the river. And back to the Navy Yard. This was right at four miles. They slowed to an easy amble as they approached the side entrance of NCIS. They weren’t about to go in the front sweaty and hot.

They took a quick trip through the NCIS gym showers and headed back to the bullpen. 

Tony settled at his desk and opened a file. He spent a bit of time reading it then asked, “Boss, when was the last time you were drown-proofed?”

Gibbs looked up at him. “AJ, Marine Scout Sniper, not a squid. So ... never.”

McGee blinked then asked, “Drown-proofed? What is that?”

Tony gave Gibbs a hard look. Gibbs smiled seraphically. “McGee, glad you asked that. You’ll find out soon, I’m sure.” Just then, his email pinged, telling him that he had an email. Tim’s honked a second later.

Tim opened his email, just as Gibbs did. 

Gibbs scowled at the list while Tim started banging his head on the partition behind his desk.

<>

Drown-proofing, commencing at 1715 this date.

bob for 5 minutes  
float for 5 minutes  
swim 100 meters  
bob for 2 minutes  
do 10 forward and backward flips  
swim to the bottom of the pool and retrieve an object with teeth  
return to the surface and bob five more times  
Hands and feet will be bound with cotton cord.  
LtCmd Anthony ‘AJ’ DiNozzo.

<>

Tim whined, “And how the hell am I supposed to swim tied up? Not to mention do anything else. Except bob, maybe.”

Tony eyed Tim for a moment then said, “You can opt out at any time. But we all do it. We’re tested about every six months, or anytime we return from an injury. So, I’ll have to train up. The others will watchdog us.”

Gibbs knew a bit about drown-proofing; word got around. He was not looking forward to it at all. He was just glad that Tony would have Dean and Cosmo watch-dogging them. “Remy?”

“He’ll be there too. Condition assessment. Each of us will have our own personal watchdog. Except Jimmy. He caught a body.” Tony was happy that they’d have one-on-one dogging, he’d hate to lose a man in an exercise. The last time that had happened had been before he’d joined up. He didn’t want to set a new precedent. 

Tim sighed. “I’m in. It’s just ... I’m kinda ... worried.” 

Gibbs knew that Tim actually meant scared shitless. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll do fine.” He grinned at Tim. “After all, it’s not a boat.”

Tim’s smile was more a grimace than anything. “Right. At least I won’t have to worry about puking.” 

Remy strolled up just then. “Puking?”

Tim shook his head. “I get seasick. And pills and shots don’t help. I’ve been aboard ship several times in the line of duty. It never gets better. Middle ear thing.”

Remy gave him a commiserating look and said, “Man, that sucks. Dad’s an admiral, too. Bet that went over like ...”

Tim interjected. “A holed Zodiac.”

“Yeah, ‘bout right. So, anyway. Drown-proofing?”

Tony nodded. “1715. I sent emails to everyone. See you there.”

Remy ambled away, fiddling with his tablet as he went.

Tony knew that he was composing a report for him. One that would detail everything Tony needed to know to complete his recovery and pass the physical evaluation to return to duty in SEALs and prove himself field-ready to NCIS. It would also tell him how to bring Gibbs and McGee up to SEAL-ready condition. 

Gibbs eyed his watch and decided, “We better head on down. Need time to change and shower. I’m not getting into the pool all sweaty. Not considerate.”

So they headed back down to the pool.

Everyone got dressed in tight trunks; it wouldn’t do to have the loose legs of a baggy riding up and showing their junk. Not a good image.

They all trooped into the pool area, Tony with a coil of rope in one hand. He actually had an XS Scuba titanium tanto point knife strapped to his calf. He used the knife to cut the rope as he tied Gibbs, then Tim. He allowed Remy to tie him. 

Gibbs had to force himself not to fight as he was tied, it was even harder when Remy gently picked him up and tossed him into the pool. The shouted instruction to, ‘sink, then push off from the bottom until we tell you to float.’ didn’t make him feel any better about his situation. He was glad that Remy dove in right after him and began treading water nearby.

Tim yelped when Dean picked him up. It hadn’t been that hard to let Tony tie his hands behind his back and his ankles together, but this was scary. Dean held Tim for a moment, whispered, “Man, relax. You can do this. I’ll be right with you.” Then he tossed Tim in and dove in right behind him.

Tony just relaxed as Remy tied him up, whining, “Man, not so tight.”

Remy just pushed Tony in, yelling, “You big girl,” and dove in too.

The sight that met Director Vance’s eyes when he was called down to the pool was astonishing. Three men, tied at the wrists and ankles, bobbing up and down in the deep end of the pool was something else. The pool attendants were worried, with good reason, and had called him down.

“Mr. Director, what are we supposed to do? This isn’t a good idea.” The senior attendant looked at him hopefully.

“You really want to tell four SEALs and Gibbs that they can’t do something?” Vance’s tone was dry and amused.

“Well ... um ... no. But ...” The attendant trailed off as SEAL finally registered. “Okay. SEAL. But I’m putting a man on the sidelines ... just in case.”

Vance nodded, eyed the bobbing heads then said, “Thanks.” He went back to his office pondering how he could ever have thought that a man who was brave enough to allow himself to be bound and thrown into a swimming pool was a feather-headed frat boy. 

.

Tony bobbed to the surface and looked around, kicking hard to gain enough height to see Gibbs and McGee. They both looked like they were doing well, so he subsided. Remy, knowing exactly what Tony was looking for told him, “They’re both fine. Gibbs is like a machine. Tim, not so much, but he got the hang of it fast.”

Tony relaxed back into the water and let himself sink. His internal clock said that it was just about time to float. He was right, just as his head came out of the water, Remy yelled, “Float.” He let out a sigh as he tipped his head back and allowed his feet to rise to the surface, floating, resting.

Tim also was glad to rest. He’d managed to bob for the five minutes but he was really tired now.

Gibbs, on the other hand, was still going strong. He’d never done this before but his Marine training had taught him to be a quick learner and he was still in great shape. He contemplated the next revolution in training as he floated, how the hell were you supposed to swim with your hands tied behind your back? He decided that he’d let Tony show the way.

Remy again gave the orders. “Swim!”

Neither Gibbs nor Tim recognized the Dolphin kick but saw that it was the only way they were going to swim at all. Gibbs got it quickly, but Tim had a bit of a struggle. He kept with it with Dean nearly hovering over him, talking him through it.

Since the pool was an Olympic size― it was 50 meters long ―two laps was all they needed to get 100m, or nearly 300 ft., approximately the length of a football field. Not that far, unless your hands were tied behind your back and your ankles tied together. Then it was a hell of a long way. 

Tony swam the stroke like he was the mammal it was named for. Gibbs was more like a barge than a dolphin but he made good time. Tim, again, had trouble, but no one thought the less of him for it. He stuck with something that most people couldn’t tolerate. The brave man is the man who does something that scares him. The man who isn’t scared is a fool.

Gibbs finished a few seconds after Tony and started bobbing again. Remy’s yell of, “Two minutes.” made him groan. He, like Tony took the opportunity to push off hard and bob high. He got a look around and was satisfied. Tony was bobbing easily, Tim was still swimming but Dean was stuck to him like glue. If anything went wrong, one of the watch dogs would be right there. He didn’t realize that there were now two life guards on duty and doing nothing but watching them.

Tim had to give up on the flips, he just couldn’t keep up. Dean cut his bonds then helped him out of the pool and wrapped a towel around his shoulders. 

Tim sighed. “Man, that was bad.”

Dean gave him a hairy eyeball. “Excuse me?”

“I didn’t finish the flips and I couldn’t go on. I’m ...” 

“Shutting up. Right the fuck now. You did good. I’ve seen men make it through everything else, PT, the works, until they get to this. They freak out and that’s all she wrote. You’ll do better. Flips are hard. Rest, get warm.” Dean rubbed Tim’s back. “Have you ever done flips at all?”

Tim shook his head. “Father made sure I knew how to swim, enough not to drown if I fell in, at least. Flips and fancy stuff, no.”

“Fuck, you did great then. After you get warmed up, I’m going to teach you the combat crawl and how to do flips. With your hands and feet free. Now, wrap a dry towel around you and rest.” Dean made a face. He really wanted to have a few words with Tim’s father, never mind that getting pissy with an admiral wasn’t a good idea.

Gibbs and Tony finished within seconds of each other. Tony nodded to Gibbs, “Did good. For a Jarhead.”

Gibbs just snorted. “Squid.”

“Damn straight.” Tony grinned, Gibbs grinned back. 

Dean dove back in to cut them loose.

Remy dried off and entered his data into his tablet. “Well, assessment, water, done. Next ... the grinder. AJ, you’re slow, really. Seriously, dude, just beat that knuckle-dragger by about six seconds.”

Gibbs’ indignant, “Hey!” made Dean and Cosmo snicker.

Remy finished his entries and started to put the tablet down. Tim held out his hand and said, “Give. I’ll finish my end and email it to Tony’s computer. Won’t take but a second or so. Then ...” he sighed heavily. “Flips. Ugh!”

.

Jimmy looked at Ducky hopefully. “Are we done? I’m supposed to report to the pool for drown-proofing.”

Ducky blinked for a moment. “My dear boy! Are you sure? It’s not necessary to the job, you know.”

“I do. But ... I really want this. I like Tony’s other team and ...” he frowned. “I’m not in some sort of macho competition, I just think it’ll be good for me. I need the ... connection, for lack of a better word.”

Ducky was well aware that Jimmy didn’t have a lot of friends; keeping up with his schooling, caring for his mother, and working at NCIS had made most of his friends drift away. The homework load hadn’t helped either. So it didn’t seem that unusual that Jimmy wanted to work out with Tony and the others. 

“Very well.” Ducky stripped off his gloves and motioned to the body they’d just gotten done with. “Let’s put this poor fellow to bed, then you can go.” They got the sailor into a drawer. Ducky flapped one hand, smiling and saying, “Run along. Just be careful.”

Jimmy didn’t waste any time getting to the gym and changed. 

He hurried into the pool just in time to find that everyone was done, except him.

“Hey, guys. I’m sorry I’m late but we had a body. I’ll come back some other time?” He was sure they would shrug him off.

He was wrong. Tony eyed him for a moment then said, “I’m going to rest for ten minutes. You will too. Then we’ll do your test. Remy, you assess, I’ll watch-dog.”

Jimmy turned pale when Tony explained exactly what he was to do but gamely put his hands behind his back. Tony made quick work of tying him then picked him up.

“In you go.” He tossed Jimmy into the pool and jumped in after.

No one was that surprised when Jimmy immediately started to bob, without being told. Jimmy was a big surprise in many ways. He’d finally admitted to being a Boy Scout and having most of the achievement badges. His father had died when he was young and his mother had wisely made sure that he had good male role models not only in Scouts, but also in church. Tony had gotten one of the SEAL research experts to do an in-depth background on him. Not because he suspected him of anything, but because he needed to know what Jimmy was trained in and said James Palmer was extremely shy about his personal life. 

Tony knew that Jimmy was a great deal more capable than he let on; the man was as shy as they came. That didn’t mean he didn’t hover; he looked around and saw that Gibbs was in the pool too. Hovering, just like he was. 

Jimmy took no notice of either man, he was too busy trying to bob without exhausting himself. He still had all the other tasks to do. He shook his head to get the water out of his eyes and went under again. 

Remy watched the clock and Jimmy carefully. He was glad the five minutes were up. He really liked the shy, self-effacing man and hated watching his struggles. But, like his team, better suffer now than drown later.

“Float!”

Jimmy was glad to hear that and easily ducked his head back to bring his feet up. 

Tony tread water near Jimmy’s head. “Doin’ ok?”

“Yeah.” Jimmy kept his answer short and his lungs inflated.

“You know how to do the dolphin, without hands?” That was Gibbs.

Jimmy turned his head. “No.” He waited a beat to keep from sinking, “I’ll figure it out.” Then he went back to floating. 

He was not that thrilled when Remy yelled, “Swim.” but he rolled over and gave it a try. He could see Tony, demonstrating, out of the corner of his eye and copied Tony. Jimmy found that it was easier than he’d thought it would be. He didn’t have his Life Saver badge for nothing. 

Even though it was fairly easy, Jimmy was really glad when Remy called, “Bob.”

Jimmy finished that without stress but the flips nearly defeated him. He was used to doing flips with the help of his hands, doing them without was just as hard as he’d thought it would be. He had to surface after each flip to breathe, of course, but Tony didn’t allow him to actually rest; he barked, “Submerge and flip,” every time he thought Jimmy was loafing. 

He grumbled, between a forward and backward flip, “AJ, you’re a bastard.”

Tony laughed, “I heard that, Gremlin. And, yes. Yes, I am. Rather be a bastard than find out that you’d drowned retrieving a body. So, fuckin’ flip already.”

Jimmy gave one jerky nod and submerged again. He finished in good time, but groaned when he realized that Remy had thrown a mask into the pool. He was going to have to dive down and pick it up with his teeth. He was not amused when Tony told him, “Stop groaning like that. It’s better than a one-ounce weight on a bobber.”

“Fuck you, AJ.” Jimmy dove for the mask. He had to try twice but he popped to the surface with the back band of the mask gripped in his teeth. 

He grimly finished the last task, wondering if he was going to make it to the side of the pool. He didn’t have to worry about that. The second that Remy called, “Finished.” Tony pulled the knife from the sheath on his calf and cut his hands free. 

They helped Jimmy to the side of the pool and Remy and Tim dragged him out. The two life guards handed around towels, told them they were all insane and went back to their jobs.

While Jimmy was doing his test, Cosmo had been helping Tim learn to flip. Instead of tying him, he’d let him use his hands and feet independently, just so he could get a feel for how it was done. 

Tony flopped down on a lounger, rubbing water out of his hair. “Ok, who’s where?”

Remy consulted the results of the analysis that Tim had run. “Ok. Dean, Cosmo and I are field ready. You’re at 90 percent. Acceptable, due to injury. I give you about a week before you’re field-ready. Jimmy ... not bad on the water, a very creditable 90, as is Jet.” Gibbs raised an eyebrow at him. No one had called him Jet since his football days. “Shut up, gyrene. Tim ... not happy with this, 75 percent. But we’ve still got the grinder to run tomorrow. I have high hopes for that. So, Tim, you’ve got to swim every night after work. So do the rest of you. Dean, Cosmo and I will go along for the ride, watch dogging.” He checked the last of his data then asked, “Any questions? Comments? Bitching?”

There wasn’t any bitching, they were all too tired. But Jimmy had a question. “Um ... I don’t have anything to wear on a grinder. And what the hell is that, anyway?”

Tony snickered a bit then said, “The Grinder is hell on earth. You’ll learn to hate the name, never mind the run. If you don’t have A-TAC’s, BDU’s, I’ll take you to military surplus and help you find what you need. Do not think jeans will do. They won’t. You need more than a t-shirt, you’ll wind up skinned all to hell. And boots. Hiking boots will do, until you wear them out. Then we’ll get you reg’s.”

Jimmy eyed Tim for a moment. “You have anything?”

Tim shook his head. “Just NCIS issue. It’s lightweight. We both better take Tony up on his offer.”

Gibbs nodded. “You better. If it’s not military spec, it probably won’t survive.”

Remy agreed, then made Jimmy groan as he said, “And you’ll need a ruck. No sense in training without several good ruck runs.”

Tim just covered his face with his hands, shook his head and asked, “I couldn’t convince you that all I need in a ruck is my laptop?”

Remy laughed, “Um ... nope. You’ll carry a minimum ruck for now, but I expect you to work up to full battle ruck.”

They all wandered back to the locker room to get dressed.

Tony was usually careful about letting anyone see his back. He wasn’t ashamed, but he didn’t see any reason to distress people unnecessarily. Today, he was so tired that he forgot. The resultant gagging sounds from behind him made him bang his head on the locker door. “Sorry about that. Boss?”

Gibbs just snorted. “Jamison from Accounting.” Gibbs went after the man to check that he didn’t choke or fall into the urinal. 

Jimmy stepped in and stopped Tony from putting on his shirt. He examined Tony’s scars for a moment, pressing on a few places. “You putting on that cream like you should?”

Tony shrugged, pulled his shirt over his head and said, “No. I’m putting it on where I can reach. Who’s going to do the rest?”

“Me. Come down to Autopsy sometime during the day and I’ll get what you can’t reach.”

Gibbs came back, his bat-like hearing kept him aware of the conversation. “Jamison’s ok. Just a gag or two.” He swatted Tony in the head. “If you can’t find Jimmy, find me. Don’t be an idiot.” 

“Thanks, Boss. I’ll do that. Just didn’t want to impose.” Tony laced his boots then glanced around. “We ready to go?”

Gibbs nodded. “I’ll check out an SUV so we can all go together.”

Cosmo and Dean expressed their lack of interest in going to a military surplus store with rude noises and the explanation that they had chores to do at home. Remy allowed that he had to get back to his assignment and ambled off.

That left Tony, Gibbs, Jimmy and Tim to climb into their newly assigned SUV and head for the store.

.  
chapter four

When they got to the store, Jimmy attached himself to Tony, simply saying, “I have no idea. I’ll just buy what you tell me to. Just remember, I’m still a broke student.”

Tony laughed softly. “Ok, Jim, I’ll take it easy on you. But since we’re working out three days a week and running the other three, you need enough to last until your next laundry day.”

“That’s easy. Mom’s still doing my laundry.” He ducked his head in embarrassment. “Especially since I washed all my whites with a red t-shirt.”

Tony grimaced sympathetically. “Ouch. In that case, you can probably get away with three sets. That’s pants, t-shirt, blouse, socks, shorts. And, believe me, you will want a blouse.”

Jimmy blinked, knowing he was going to insult someone with the question. “Ok. Blouse? I’m confused.”

“It’s a shirt. But, the military being what it is, it’s called a blouse. A jacket is something else entirely. You’ll need three because you’ll want it after you sit down to rest. It’s getting chilly enough that you’ll chill if you sit around in just a sweaty t-shirt.” Tony had mercy on his friend because even some military couldn’t get it right. “Now, let’s get shopping.”

Meanwhile, Gibbs was handing Tim things to try on. “And come out so I can see you. I’m not having anyone under my ... in my team running around, looking like a wanna-be.”

It didn’t take them long to gather up three pairs of A-TAC pants, three A-TAC blouses, a package of OD t-shirts, socks, and a pair of boots for both Tim and Jimmy. Both men were sent into changing rooms to make sure that things fit properly. 

Tim came out almost at once, dressed properly. Jimmy took a bit longer, and he looked like he wasn’t sure he was even buttoned up straight.

Tony couldn’t help but burst out laughing. 

Jimmy quailed, “Oh, man, I got it wrong, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”

Tim gave Jimmy a good look, then looked at himself. He started laughing too.

Gibbs just patted Jimmy on the shoulder. “No, you’re fine. AJ, stop laughing like a jackass.”

Tony got control of himself, clearing his throat sharply. “A-hem! No, Jimmy, you didn’t get it wrong. Just ... Both of you. In front of the mirrors.”

When they were in front of the mirrors, Jimmy saw what had made Tony laugh. Tim was in MARPAT while he was in Navy Tricolor Desert Camo. They all had a good laugh over that.

Tony swatted Jimmy on the shoulder and said, “Jimmy, stop worrying so much. You look fine. Pants need a better tuck, keeps the mud, sand and dirt out of them, but other than that? Looks good.”

Jimmy didn’t realize how good he looked in his A-TAC’s. He was 6 feet tall and very well set up. The A-TAC’s didn’t hide it like his usual baggy scrubs or cargos and sloppy t-shirt did.

Gibbs eyed Tim. Tim’s father was really an admiral and it showed. Tim had his pants properly tucked and his t-shirt was ‘bloused’ per Navy regs, never mind that he was wearing MARPAT. Gibbs nodded once. “Good job.”

Tony looked at Gibbs then at the back wall. “Rucks.”

Gibbs eyed the mess on the wall then said, “Hey! Ruck, frame, belly band, shoulder straps, extra modules. Not messin’ around with search and destroy.”

A clerk jumped to and helped them find all the things that Tony and Gibbs agreed that Tim and Jimmy needed. The clerk convinced them that hydration modules were necessary. It didn’t actually take that much.

Jimmy eyed the first pack the clerk offered. He didn’t like it and said so. “I need one that’s more compartmentalized. I’m going to be carrying a full med kit and I don’t want to have to fish around for stuff. Seconds count, seconds I waste looking for things.”

The clerk nodded. “Ok. I’ve got several more in mind, this was just the cheapest.” He produced a pack with two large compartments and two smaller ones. It was also a MOLLE system. “You can add things with these.” he showed them a handful of plastic clips. “We’ve got several types, quickies, bulldogs, zips. I’d get a few of each so you have a choice.”

Gibbs had a fist full of clips. “I’ll take these.” He had chosen quick clips, zips, and an odd triangular thing he referred to as a dominator.

Jimmy fussed around with the pack, checking to see that there was enough room for all his gear. “I don’t know. I think I need a bigger one. If I’m going to carry everything you want me to and everything I need ... I need bigger.”

Gibbs shook his head. “No, you don’t. You’ll carry your medical gear, then anything else you can manage to carry. If you can’t carry everything you need ... I’ll carry what you can’t.”

Tony shook his head. “No you won’t. We’ll carry it. We’ll figure out how much he needs that he can’t carry and split it between all of us. That means that everyone might have to carry five or six extra pounds. Not that big a deal.” Tim nodded his agreement.

Jimmy looked pleased and a bit shocked. “You’d do that for me? Thanks.”

Gibbs looked at Jimmy for a moment then said, “Scenario. You’re out in the field, someone’s shot. You go over and start first aid. You hear more shots and some of the rounds are getting really close. What do you do?”

Jimmy didn’t hesitate a second. “First, cover my patient. Then, look around to see how to get them out of the line of fire.”

Gibbs nodded. “And that’s why I’ll carry whatever you need me to. Make sure you eat, have the warm rack, and the dry socks.”

Tony just nodded his agreement. 

Tim patted Jimmy on the shoulder. “Just enjoy. You’re still gonna ache like an abscessed tooth.”

They went back to dealing with rucks. Gibbs showed them how to use defenders to gather the slack in the straps, rather than cut it off. If you used a defender, it was there if you needed it. If you cut it, you might have trouble.

Tony helped Jimmy adjust the pack temporarily, just to try out the fit. Jimmy liked it and so did Tony. 

Tim also submitted to having a ruck fitted. He sighed. “Man, I’m not going to like this, am I, Boss?” 

Gibbs swatted him in the head. “Stop that. You’ll do fine. You’re going to psyche yourself into a crash an’ burn if you’re not careful. Just take one step at a time. You’ll make it. I won’t allow anything else.”

Tim couldn’t believe how good that made him feel. He felt like, if Gibbs ordered it, it was a done deal. He glanced at Tony to find that he was beaming at Gibbs like he’d accomplished something great.

They paid their bill and left. 

.

Next morning Gibbs, Dean and Cosmo shared a quick cup of coffee, glass of orange juice and bitching breakfast. They then headed for Quantico to meet up with Remy, Jimmy, Tim and Tony.

Tony had made arrangements so that they could use the obstacle course there. They’d have to share with a group of SID’s but one group would surely outrun the other.

They gathered at the head of the trail and Tony gave instructions. “As I’m still on the sick list, I can’t run this dog and pony show. Remy will. As evaluator, he’s in charge.” Tony eyed Dean and Cosmo. “Obey his orders. I’m going to. Now. Remy?” he turned to his 2IC.

Remy eyed everyone. “Rucks down. We’ll circle back here to pick them up. AJ? We need to do a ruck check?”

Tony thought about that for a moment then said, “Not a bad idea. That way everyone has an idea what’s available.”

Tony went first.

His pack was piggy-backed with his NCIS go-bag, so they opened and inventoried that first. He’d managed to cram an amazing amount of stuff into it.

Gloves, both latex and stick-proof  
fingerprint kit  
[blood kit] luminol and light  
drug test kit  
explosives detection kit  
trail mix  
energy bars  
water purification tablets and bottle  
water  
evidence collection kit. (small, medium, and large evidence bags. small and medium jars. sticky tape)  
Crime scene tape  
swabs; sterile in packaging and in tubes  
drink mix  
tissues  
first aid kit class 3  
grunt candy  
C-4 (ball the size of a golf ball) and detonator/remote  
Primacord   
knives  
extra magazines   
hold out (Taurus 9mm)  
Duct tape  
sketch kit (drawing pad, pencil box with pencils, eraser, sharpener)  
backpacker's watercolor set  
SD cards for camera and cell phone  
light sticks and one-shot emergency flares

Then they went into his field pack.

baby wipes  
sanitizing gel  
MRE - 2 per day  
underwear - 1 per day  
socks - 1 per day + 2   
t-shirt - 1 short, 1 long  
bdu - 1 pair  
jacket - ez pac  
multi tool  
folding knife  
rigid knife - 2  
wire saw/garrote  
video iPod  
compass  
waterproof notebook/pen  
batteries for everything that needs them  
trail mix - 8oz per day  
granola/power bars - 2 per day  
flint and steel  
water purification system/tabs  
cash of country  
carabiners  
gloves - warm+fingerless leather  
super glue  
chem lights (glow stix)  
para cord  
sun screen   
towel  
wash cloth  
soap - all purpose - bar in mesh sack in hard box  
eatn’tool  
ammo  
magazines - gun, not paper  
hand grenades  
shape charges  
Primacord  
Simtex or C4  
weapon-cleaning kit including whetstone  
whistle  
GPS system  
space blanket - 4  
disposable rain poncho - 2  
poncho and liner  
small binoc  
mirror  
powdered drink mix  
lip balm  
Moleskin - 3 4x6 pads  
tooth brush/paste  
foot powder x 2  
high temp chocolate  
boot laces - 2 pr  
invisible fishing line

personal first aid kit:  
2 Bandage, Conforming Gauze, 3 inches  
8 Dressing, Gauze, Sterile, 2 inches x 2 inches, Pkg./2  
4 Dressing, Gauze, Sterile, 4 inches x 4 inches, Pkg./2  
6 Dressing, Non-Adherent, Sterile, 3 inches x 4 inches  
3 Tape, 1 inches x 20 Yards  
80 Acetaminophen (800 mg), Pkg./2  
4 Antihistamine (Diphenhydramine 25 mg) Pkg./4  
10 Aspirin (325 mg), Pkg./2  
10 Ibuprofen (200 mg), Pkg./2  
20 bandaid assorted  
10 triple antibiotic cream 1/2oz pillow pac  
20 antiseptic towelettes individual pac

Gibbs eyed the pile of stuff, rolled his eyes and snarked, “Only a squid.”

Tony got a bit defensive. “Well, I’ve been out in the field and run out of just about everything at one time or another. I’m only carrying about 70 lbs. So, since SEALs don’t wear heavy gear, I’m actually lighter than a ground pounder. What are you carrying?”

Gibbs shrugged. “Usual Scout Sniper pack. Bit of everything. Mostly the same thing you’re carrying except not so much water and ammo. Don’t usually get up close and personal with tangos. And, if I can’t do the job in 20 rounds or so, I deserve to be gacked.”

Tim was carrying the same stuff Gibbs was, as was Jimmy, except for the addition of a full field medical kit, which contained:

1 Blood Pressure Cuff Kit  
16 Bandage Strips, 1''x3''  
1 Cervical Collar  
5 Butterfly Strips  
1 Pen Light  
5 Bandage Strips, 2''x3''  
2 Suture Sets  
10 Knuckle Bandages  
1 EFA - First Aid Book  
2 Instant Ice Packs  
6 Pairs Latex Examination Gloves  
1 EMT Shears  
10 Abdominal Pads, 5''x9''  
2 Stainless Steel Hemostats  
20 Pain Relievers heavy duty  
10 pain relievers (ibuprofen)  
1 Pair of Tweezers  
6 Safety Pins  
1 Scalpel handle, #3  
2 Emergency Blankets, 52''x84'' *  
1 Stethoscope  
1 Hand Sanitizer, 2oz.  
4 Scalpel Blades  
1 Calamine Lotion, 6oz.  
5 Tongue Depressors  
1 Hand Soap bar  
1 CPR Mask  
6 After Bite Wipes  
30 Antiseptic BZK Wipes  
2 Universal Splint  
5 Ammonia Inhalants  
1 Elastic Bandage, 6''  
6 Airways - small to large adult  
5 Sterile Sponges, 4''x4''  
2 Multi Trauma Dressings, 10''x30''  
2 Tape, Rolls, Adhesive  
1 Bottle Skin and Eye Wash  
6 Bleed Stop Bandages  
10 Triple Antibiotic Packages  
5 Eye Pads  
5 Burn Aid Packages  
2 Triangular Bandages, 40''x40''x56''  
1 Non-Latex Tourniquet 1 x 18  
3 IV Ringers sets (Includes catheters and hang strap)  
6 single unit morphine (epi pen style 10 dose ea.)

Tony eyed the pile. “You going to be able to carry all that?”

Jimmy looked grim. “I’m going to have to be, aren’t I?”

Remy just watched as everyone repacked their gear. He then produced a hang scale from a box of equipment that the DI’s kept there. “Okay, let’s weigh this mess.”

Gibbs' pack weighed in at 55 lbs. Tony, Dean, Cosmo and Remy’s at 75. Tim’s was a light 30. But Jimmy’s pack was a beast at 90.

Gibbs nodded. “You got any food in there at all?”

Jimmy nodded. “You saw. Four MRE’s. That’s enough, right?”

Tony barked, “Not! You need at least three times that and twice the water. 72-hour pack doesn’t mean exactly that. As SEALs, we hope to get the job done in 48 but plan on 72. I’ve seen missions that should be done in 24 last more than a week. Hope for the best, plan for the worst and be happy with what you get. So ... carry at least eight MRE’s.” 

Gibbs shrugged. “I’ll carry half his extra food and water. That’s about ten - fifteen more pounds.”

Tony nodded. “Okay.”

Tim snorted. “You’ll do no such thing. Jimmy and I are battle buddies, I’ll carry thirty pounds of his stuff. That puts both of us at 60 pounds.”

The rest of the group grinned at him. 

It only took them a few minutes to re-distribute things and re-pack.

Then it started. Remy led them over to the map of the course. “Okay, we’ll run the first two thirds of the route. The last third has team-building obstacles that we aren’t going to run yet. Everyone is on their own. You’ll be timed. And no skipping over sets. If you can’t complete the number of reps for an exercise, you have to stay and rest until you can.”

Tim asked, “Okay, got that. But when do we need our rucks?”

Gibbs scowled for a second then groaned. “Man, after the course, we’re doing a ruck run. Ouch.”

Remy blew a whistle and yelled, “Okay, you girls, stop whining and start running.”

The obstacle course was arranged so that all the obstacles were in a straight line, about 100 yards apart. That didn’t mean that anyone ever actually just ran from one end to the other. The path was a different beast entirely. The DI could have his boots run several different ones. 

The path that Remy arranged took the group through each obstacle, but between them they ran 200 yards to an exercise area, then 200 yards back to the next one. The full course wasn’t called the Grinder for nothing. It could, and had, ground men into paste.

Remy yelled after them, “Follow the blue flags.” 

So they followed blue flags through running, chin ups, running, Tarzan swing, run, situps, run, barbwire crawl, run, pushups, run, high stepover, and more. Through ten of the fifteen obstacles.

They returned to the staging area, panting and sweating, just in time to run into the SID group.

This group was officially referred to as Special Indoctrination Division, unofficially it was called Sorry I Did it. It was a disciplinary group for individuals that the service, in this case Army, thought could be rehabilitated from smart-mouthed, petty criminals and general fuck-ups, into soldiers worth having. It was pass this or be dishonorably discharged and, perhaps, go to jail.

Tony watched cautiously as the group began their trip through hell. Most of the men were groaning and grumbling, the ones who weren’t were sulking.

“Oh, man. I’d hate to have that bunch of morons on my hands.” Remy wasn’t about to break squares, he just said what he thought.

One of the men overheard and decided to take exception to Remy’s comments. 

“What you lookin’ at, ol’ man?” The guy was fairly big, in halfway decent shape and ready to pick a fight. That was the reason he was in SID: he thought he was Mohammed Ali.

Gibbs stood up. “Not sure. Wanna know what I think? I think you’re a big girl, got your panties all in a twist. Just because everyone knows you’re all hot air. Wanna make something of it?”

The grunt, pushed beyond what his short temper would take, took a swing. His DI yelled; too late, but he tried. 

Gibbs ducked the punch and rolled the smart ass over his shoulder, stepped over his arm, with his wrist in a lock. This put him on his face on the ground with his arm in a backward arm-bar lock. 

“Now. Your CO is going to explain to you why it’s not smart to get mouthy with someone older than you. In detail. Oh, and, just be glad I took you on, instead of the big guy. He’s a SEAL and he’d have handed you your head on a cracker. Got me?”

It seemed that he did as he submitted to having his DI grab him by the arm Gibbs let go of. The DI dragged him away, chewing all the way. 

Tony snorted. “And that’s another thing. Hand-to-hand. We’ve got to work that in for Tim and Jimmy. Can’t have either one of them less than dangerous.”

Tim sighed. “I’ll never be good at that. I’m just ... hopeless.”

That was when Tim realized that Tony was really a bastard at times. He got right in Tim’s face. “Damn it, Probie, you’ll learn if I have to pound you like a damn drum. And now....”

Remy took over. “Okay, girls, you’ve rested enough. Rucks up and run.”

They all got their packs on, helping each other get all straps fixed properly. Then they ran. Remy had lined out a ‘short’ run― short for them. It was only five miles.

Tony was happy to find that, even after some severe exercise, his collar bone didn’t object to carrying a full ruck. He trotted easily, breathing better than he’d expected. 

Remy evaluated his team with ruthless efficiency. His evaluation confirmed his first opinion. Tony needed a refresh, as did Gibbs. Cosmo, Dean and he were in the best shape. Tim was going to need some hard work, but Jimmy was a surprise. He wasn’t in as good shape as the SEALs, or Gibbs, but the difference was slight. His big problem was going to be the size and weight of his pack. 

Gibbs yelled at Jimmy. “Palmer, drink more.”

Tony barked, “Tim, tighten those straps, that pack is bouncing too much. You’re going to blister.”

Dean grumbled, “Fuck, Cosmo, who the hell has the nerve to call Gibbs old?”

Cosmo answered, “Common Dog Fucker is not so common.”

Remy, overhearing, allowed, “True, too true.” He was running behind the group to keep an eye on Tony. “AJ! Put a fuckin’ wheel under it! You’re falling back. Keep your spot.”

Tony gave a little extra kick to get back to his assigned position. He’d been falling behind out of habit. He was usually up and down the group, encouraging, nagging, or ass chewing, as needed. Now, that was Remy’s place. Old habits, as they say.

As they ran, they passed various groups of runners. The thing that they all found amusing was, they lapped the SID group. The DI’s all had fits, yelling at their group that they were a bunch of weak girls and had better hoof it or else. 

They got some really dirty looks but the DI’s all nodded politely as the group ran past.

They completed the five miles, just barely. Jimmy had to slow down enough that his time sucked. Tim actually tried to fall out. Didn’t work, Remy turned into a screaming fiend and nipped at his heels like a rabid Rottweiler for the last quarter mile. He staggered in last and flopped down to pant like a worn-out boiler.

Jimmy just offered him a Gatorade and a commiserating smile. “Here. Drink.”

Tim took it. “Well, that wasn’t ... horrible.”

Remy glanced up from his tablet. “Well, damn, I’m not doin’ it right. AJ?”

Tony swallowed his mouthful of water and opined, “Well, it wasn’t horrible on my part. Tim! Seriously?”

Tim sighed. “Look at it this way. He only had to yell at me for ... what? A quarter mile? That’s not good, but it’s not horrible, either. I wasn’t expecting to do that well.”

Cosmo nodded. “In that case. Not horrible, but ... not super good. You’ve got a lot of work to do but ... I don’t see you failing. I’m gonna be on your tail every step.”

Dean nodded. “Me too.”

The rest of the team just nodded. Tim grimaced. “Thanks ... I think.” he turned to the tablet that Remy handed him and started inputting data.

Gibbs couldn’t help a secret smile. His boys were all together, working as a team. That made him happy. He was especially pleased that Tony had quit ragging on Tim and was actually helping him. He now realized that Tony had made the mistake of treating Tim like a SEAL whelp. Not that good an idea, with Tim’s self-image and shy personality. But it had served to toughen him up.

Remy insisted on a visual inspection of each of them; feet, shoulders, hips. These were all the wear spots that could blister or bruise. 

Everyone was ok in the shoulders and hips but Jimmy had blistered his left heel and Tony had a line of blisters over the knuckles of his toes on his right foot. Gibbs had a couple of hot spots, as did Dean. Remy and Cosmo were happily touting the wonders of silk sock liners while Tim was a bit smug that he’d bought some for himself.

Gibbs eyed Jimmy’s foot then asked, “Who’s going to medic the medic?”

Jimmy fumbled with his foot, saying, “I can get it. It’s okay.”

Remy swatted him in the head. “Yes, I don’t think so. Feet are impossible. We’ll get someone in.” Jimmy started to protest and was told firmly, “Shut up, dude. No need for one of us to mess around with it. If we were in the field, one of us would deal. Here, we’ve got medics and whatnot on call.” He looked around, saw a loitering medic and called him over.

The medic ambled over; he didn’t see any frantic gestures so he took it easy. “Okay, what’s the problem?”

Jimmy squirmed around so the medic could see his foot. “Friction vesicle. Probably only one layer deep.”

The medic demanded, “And where is your medic?” at the same time Jimmy was speaking.

Tony just pointed to Jimmy. “He’s it, Corpsman.”

This got them all a rather annoyed look. “Okay, great. This is how you take care of your medic?”

No one got defensive, it wasn’t worth it. Remy just said, “Shakedown. Got to requal three guys, him included.”

The Corpsman then turned his annoyance on Jimmy. “You know better. How the hell can you yell at them to take care of themselves if you don’t? Numbnuts.”

Jimmy sighed. “I know. But ... it sort of crept up on me. Then I just had a few hundred feet to finish and I ... well... um.”

Remy exploded. “Damn it, Doc! Why didn’t you tell me your feet were crapping out? I’d have let it slide.”

Jimmy shrugged. “Yeah? And what good is that going to do me when I’m in the field and can’t stop, for whatever reason? I’ll be fine. I know what to do to those boots to fix this. And .. ow!”

This yelp was brought about by the medic puncturing the blister. This is not advised, if you have time to stay off it until it drains; but, due to training considerations, they didn’t. The corpsman then slathered Jimmy’s heel with medicated analgesic cream, put a 4x on it and taped it up. “There. Change that every chance you get. Wash it, soap and water. Failing that, sanitizing gel. Burns like a bitch but it’s better than having your foot get infected. And ... Dude, use foot powder. Ok?”

Jimmy nodded. “Yes. Thank you. Um ...Corpsman Phillips?” Jimmy was still trying to get all the rates and ratings straight.

Corpsman Phillips just smiled. “That’ll do. Now, who else needs patched up?”

Tony called him over. “I do. Jimmy, stay there. I don’t want you on that foot until we have to move out.” Jimmy subsided gratefully.

The corpsman scooped up his bag and tended to Tony. He did the same thing to Tony, popping the blisters with a quick poke from a lancet and slathering the tops of his toes with cream. “Got a clean sock? Preferably white cotton.”

Tony handed over a white tube sock. “Not reg, but I’ll let myself slide.”

The medic eyed Tony for a moment, finally noticing the insignia on his collar. “Sir.”

“Stand down. I don’t need a salute.” Tony sighed. “What I really need is ...” A bottle of water landed in the dirt beside him. “that. Thanks, Remy.”

Corpsman Phillips finished his work and stood up. “Sir, with all due respect. If I see you with a foot like that again, I’m going to be very pissed.”

Tony flushed a bit. “I’ll be more careful. And I don’t even have the excuse of new boots. Just off the injured list. I’m a bit out of shape. Need to callus up again.” 

“Sir.” Phillips saluted, Tony returned and the corpsman was off about his duties.

Gibbs sighed and heaved himself to his feet. “I’m for something to eat that’s not MRE’s or other military issue. Come on. Remy can give us his evaluation over real food.”

Remy nodded. “Sounds good to me. McGee, get the stats entered ASAP. I’m starved.”

Tim finished inputting all the data that Remy had collected and got up with a groan. “Oh, man. Ow.”

Jimmy started to put his boot back on but Gibbs stopped him. “Stay off that. Cosmo, team with me.”

Cosmo ambled over and, between them, they made a ‘chair’, got Jimmy settled and carried him to the SUV. Jimmy had to admit that he was glad he didn’t have to walk the 100 yards or so. “Thanks, guys, and my feet thank you too.” He settled back in the seat. “Gibbs ... um ... Jethro. After everyone’s in the SUV, I’d like you to make sure that everyone has a drink. Please.”

“Will do. Gotta go see to AJ now.” Gibbs smiled slightly. Jimmy beamed back.

Tony didn’t need more than Remy’s arm around his shoulders to help him hobble to their ride. He’d just put his boot back on, unlaced, and taken it slow.

They all got seated and Gibbs, true to his word, handed out Gatorade, water and juice. Everyone, except Tony and Jimmy, was surprised that Gibbs remembered what they liked.

“Ok, now that we’re watered, where do you want to go eat?” Gibbs wanted to shower and change before eating and said so.

Tony shrugged. “Drop me off at my place. Then Tim. Jimmy? You could clean up at my place, if you like. It’s way out of your way to go home then come back.”

Jimmy took Tony up on his offer. “Yeah, that’d be nice. Thank you. I’ve got a change in my ruck. Thought it might be a good idea to have civvies.”

Tim agreed. “Good idea. We can meet up at ... Tuscany?” He named a new Italian place that was getting good reviews. “We don’t need a reservation but I can make one in about three seconds.”

The general consensus turned out to be, Italian sounded great. Tim made the reservations for an hour from mark. 

Tony and Jimmy were dropped off at Tony’s place, Tim at his and the rest of the group went to Gibbs' house. Gibbs wondered, rather vaguely, how he’d wound up with Dean and Cosmo living with him. Not that he minded and he did remember telling them to do so, but where that impulse had come from, he wasn’t sure. He was sure that he was happier than he’d been in years. 

Remy poked him. “Come on, man, fall asleep after food.”

Gibbs grumbled idly but climbed out, moaning as he realized that he’d stiffened up considerably while he’d sat on his ass. He grumbled sourly.

Dean didn’t say anything, he occupied himself with digging the rucks out of the back and handing them around. 

They all hobbled into the house. Remy grumped, “I just hope there’s enough hot water. And who’s going first?”

Dean answered. “Gibbs goes first in the master bath. We’ll draw for the other. As to hot water: There’s now two on-demand hot water heaters. One for the baths and one for the kitchen and laundry. We installed them last night.”

They dropped their packs in the back mud room, they could clean them up after they got back home.

Showers didn’t take long. Gibbs took five minutes then called Remy in to take his. 

It took the four of them twenty minutes to get clean and dressed. Gibbs took time to clean his ruck and repack it, it’d settled a bit and was off balance. The other three men took the opportunity to do the same.

.  
chapter five

 

Tony offered Jimmy firsts at the shower, which he gratefully accepted. 

While Jimmy was showering, Tony got out his home first aid kit, the one Gibbs declared was set up for minor surgery. He set out everything needed to medic their feet again.

Jimmy came limping out, rubbing the last of the water out of his curly hair with a dryzall towel. “You going to fix my foot for me? I could do it myself ... I think.”

“No. I’m gonna let it rot off.” Tony laughed at Jimmy, who just made a face at him. “Sit.”

Jimmy dutifully sat. Tony took a moment to get a good look at the blister. It covered most of the back of Jimmy’s heel. It had slipped and all the skin was hanging loose. He got out his surgical scissors and took them to the sink. He poured alcohol over them then returned to carefully cut off the dead skin. Jimmy bore with this with admirable stoicism, only wincing when Tony accidentally poked the raw with the scissors.

“Sorry, man. This has to come off.” Tony eyed his handiwork, decided that this was as good as it got and smeared antiseptic cream over the wound. He ripped a pack of 4x open and stuck it to the cream. A couple of strips of tape later he announced, “That’s as good as it gets. Ducky should take a look at that before you do any more running. Tomorrow is gym day, so you should be good to go, day after.”

Jimmy, realizing that Tony actually meant for them to work out seven days a week, let out a quiet whimper.

“What?”

Jimmy bit the bullet. “Tomorrow is Sunday. I was hoping that I’d have a day to heal before gym.”

“Damn. Forgot that. No, tomorrow is off. I’m too tired. Shower, food. Think later.” and with that he started stripping off as he headed through the apartment for the bathroom. 

Jimmy sighed and put his head down on the kitchen table. He was so tired, he wondered if he had the energy to chew. He comforted himself with the thought that Gibbs, Tony and Tim looked thrashed too. Tony was obviously tired, but still not exhausted. Tim was nearly falling down exhausted while Gibbs was, like Tony, obviously tired but still able to go on. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Tony came in, saying, “Gremlin, it does get better.” The sympathy in his voice was clear.

“I know. But, right now, I hurt. I’m tired, hungry, need to piss, and fighting sleep.” he nearly staggered out the door. “I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep in the soup.” 

Tony laughed. “It has happened. You’re better to fall into the bread basket. See the headlines ...” he framed imaginary headlines with his hands. “J. Palmer, MD. drowns in soup.” 

Jimmy laughed softly. “I’ll be out in a few minutes. Don’t put on a shirt. I assume you’ve got some cream somewhere. Find it and I’ll put it on for you.”

Tony hollered after him. “Cream is in the metal tub on the counter.”

.

Tim staggered into his tiny apartment, eyed the pile of mail and went on. He needed a shower in the worst way. Everything hurt; he wasn’t even sure he was hungry, until his stomach gave a dismal growl. 

He turned on the shower and waited until the elderly hot water heater gave a grumble that indicated the water was as hot as it was going to get. He got in the shower and began to wash. He flinched and swore when the water suddenly went cold.

Instead of getting out to fix the heater, he just finished his shower in cold water and got out. He gave the heater a kick as he walked by and the thing made a burping noise that was decidedly different. He ignored it in favor of getting dressed.

He looked around his apartment and sighed. It was so small that he’d finally put most of his collectables in climate-controlled storage. He had recorded all his records on a huge hard drive, as well as all his movies. His books were in acid-free storage boxes. He really needed to move, but he hardly had time to look for a place, never mind actually move.

Giving that line of thought up as depressing, he finished dressing and found comfortable shoes. He just hoped he was still awake when it was time to leave for the restaurant. He wondered vaguely why he’d even agreed to go.

He was interrupted by his phone. He knew it was Tony by the ringtone.

“Hello.” 

Tony barked, “Probie, do not go to sleep. We’ll be there in ten. Got things going quicker than expected.”

Tim sighed. “Our reservations ...”

“Change ‘em. Bye.”

Tim rolled his eyes but changed the reservations. It wasn’t that hard. He’d reserved a small banquet room so, when the hostess said it wouldn’t be available, he agreed to a large corner table instead. The table seated 12 so they’d have plenty of room.

.

Remy, Dean, Cosmo and Gibbs arrived in one SUV, Tony and Jimmy in Tony’s Mustang, and Tim arrived alone in his Boxter. 

They met at the door and entered where the hostess greeted them, saying, “Party of seven? DiNozzo?”

Tony nodded. “That’s right, ma’am. Thank you.”

She smiled prettily; this was a nice change from her usual customer, who seemed to think she was part of the furniture. “This way, please.”

Remy announced, soto voce, “Damn glad she didn’t say ‘Walk this way.’”

Beverly dimpled at him. “I have gotten out of the habit of saying that.”

Tony chuckled and said, “Good thing. I don’t think I could walk like that.”

They got seated, with more banter along the way. Then Beverly asked, “Menu? Or the family style banquet?”

Tony eyed up the table, taking silent vote. “Could we see the banquet menu?”

Beverly got that stiff look of someone who knew she was going to deal with rudeness. “There’s not really a menu for that. It’s ... well, usually spaghetti and meat sauce, Fettuccine Alfredo with chicken, mushrooms and peas, ravioli in vodka sauce, green beans vinaigrette, salad, garlic bread ... that sort of thing. Mostly whatever they can get out quickest. If you want something specific, your server can ask.”

Tony smiled at her, as did everyone else. “Look. We’re not that particular, so relax.” He pointed to his friends in turn. “Marine, Navy, Navy, Navy, Special Agent, Medic, Navy,” he ended by pointing to himself. “We just ran the Grinder and we’re all exhausted and starved. Just as long as it’s hot and a lot, we don’t really care.”

Beverly beamed at them. “Okay. I’ll send Sheila right over for your drink orders. And ...” she turned to Gibbs, “coffee, right?” Gibbs nodded. “Okay, got it.”

Sheila came over with coffee pot in hand. “I hear you guys want the family style?” She poured coffee into all the upturned cups. “Ok, there’s a nice lasagna just out of the oven. If I hurry, I can claim it for you. So ... any drinks, other than coffee and water?” She glanced from man to man. 

The general consensus being ‘no’ she went off to place their order, leaving the coffee pot behind.

Gibbs had already finished his first cup. He muttered, “Good coffee,” and poured himself another. He glanced over at Tim, grumbled, “McGee, drink that before you fall asleep in it.”

Tim lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. He choked a bit at the strength but managed another before putting the cup down. “Okay; thanks, Boss.”

Remy cleared his throat. “I’m going to take this opportunity to go over your evals.” He looked around for a moment then continued. “I’m not going to bother with mine, Dean’s or Cosmo’s. We’re all 100 per. AJ, you’re a good 98 per. Gibbs, 98ish. Jimmy 90 per, very surprising and I’m proud of you. Tim, you’re not so good at 88 per, but you show heart. I don’t expect you to have trouble getting up to speed, if you just apply yourself.” He grinned at Tim. “I don’t really see you not. AJ can be a bastard when he wants. Gibbs ...” he snickered slightly, “second b. But for now, relax, eat, rest. Tomorrow is Sunday and recovery day.”

Various noises of approval came from around the table, Gibbs even gave a soft grunt. 

It didn’t take long for Sheila to return with the full meal. She plopped her huge tray down on a folding stand that a bus boy placed for her. “Here we go. Chief wouldn’t let me bring the whole pan of lasagna. He said that you could have half. I cut it into eight pieces. And there’s spaghetti and meat sauce.” She put out a huge platter of that while the bus boy handed out the lasagna. “And Fettuccine Alfredo with shrimp and peas.” She hefted another heavy platter off the tray and onto the table. She also produced ravioli with mushrooms in vodka sauce and parmesan broccoli, green beans vinaigrette, salad and garlic bread. “There! If anyone wants desert, it’s extra. If you need anything, I’ll be around from time to time. Catch someone’s eye if I don’t get around soon enough. Enjoy.” And with that, she was off about her work.

Everyone dug in, passing platters and plates around the table. Gibbs checked to make sure that Jimmy and Tim got food. He was pleased to see that Dean was persuading Jimmy to eat more beans and broccoli, while Tony was calmly putting a serving of fettuccine on Tim’s plate. He nodded to Tony, mouth full of lasagna.

Sheila was astonished when she came back to the table. Every single platter and plate was empty. The salads were gone, as was the garlic bread. “Wow! You guys are a regular horde of locusts. More?”

Gibbs gave her a rather flirtatious look. “Please. And salad and bread. More coffee?”

So Sheila went back and chivvied the cook into more of everything. This led to Spaghetti Carbonara, mozzarella and tomato salad drizzled with olive oil and balsamic vinegar, more ravioli, bread and Italian salad. She also brought a whole platter of grilled fish, also drizzled with olive oil. She just laughed as the platters were passed and emptied in record time. Sheila also replaced the coffee pot. 

They decided against desert but agreed that more coffee was in order.

Tony sighed. “Good food. Good evals.” Tim snorted. “Seriously, dude, lighten up on yourself. You’re better than...” He eyed Remy.

Remy took over. “You’re better than about two thirds of the men who graduate. You’re not SEAL mission ready, yet.”

Gibbs swatted Tim in the head with commendable gentleness. “McGee, the only easy day was yesterday. Get used to it.” He sighed softly. “Or walk away.”

Tim eyed him for a moment. “Never walked away from a challenge in my life. Don’t intend to start now.” 

Jimmy offered, “You’re just tired and hurting. That would make anyone a bit grumpy.”

Tim finished his coffee in a gulp. “Okay. Now, I want to go home and take a nap.”

A chorus of, “Me, too,” type agreements supported this idea. 

Tony called for their check and paid with a credit card; he added a big tip for Sheila. They left, full and ready for a good rest.

Jimmy grumbled, “Damn. I forgot. It’s Saturday and I missed the last bus.”

Gibbs glanced at his watch. “It’s only 1500.”

Jimmy shook his head. “Bus runs here in the city, but the last bus out my way just left the stop. I’m not looking forward to a mile-plus hike, on top of everything else.”

Tony patted him on the shoulder. “Come home with me. I’ve got a spare room, remember?”

Jimmy looked conflicted. “I wouldn’t want to be a nuisance.”

“Won’t be. I intend to veg out on the couch. Probably go to bed early.” Tony barely avoided asking Jimmy why he was still living with his Mother. One, it really wasn’t his business. Two, medical school was hellaciously expensive. 

They left, followed by the rest of the group. 

Gibbs stopped Tony with a hand on his arm. Tony turned, one eyebrow raised. 

“Wait a sec.” Gibbs watched Jimmy as he leaned on Tony’s car. “Jimmy’s Mother lives way out. I mean, way out. He’s lived with her for the last 18 months or so, and he hasn’t looked happy since. Pump him.”

Tony’s speculative look made Gibbs nod and head for the SUV.

Tony muttered, “Gremlin, you may have a new roomy,” and headed for his car.

Jimmy watched as Gibbs' group headed out in the huge SUV. “I’ve always wanted one of those. Guess I’ll just have to want.”

“Why’s that?” Tony casually settled in the driver's seat.

“By the time I’ve paid off my loans, I’ll be ... um ... 40? Ish?” Jimmy sighed. He didn’t mind that he had a curfew, he’d be in bed by that time most nights anyway. But he did hate it that his mother took most of his pay. She said it was for bills and rent, but he didn’t see how his share amounted to most of his pay. 

“That’s a hell of a sigh. Care to tell me about it?” Tony carefully kept his tone light and his eyes on the road.

“Well ... um ... It’s just... I don’t know. I feel like Mom still thinks I’m a silly 16 year-old. She ... Never mind.” Jimmy looked out the window, clearly unwilling to say anything against his mother.

“Never mind. We’ll be home soon. I’m going to put on a movie and veg. Any clear preferences?” Tony didn’t need to poke Jimmy, he already had a clear idea what was wrong. He’d actually spoken to the woman a few times. She was nice, in a Jewish Mother sort of way. She had clear ideas of what Jimmy should and shouldn’t do; and, with good reason, expected Jimmy to stick to her rules. After all, my house, my rules. 

Jimmy shook his head. “Just nothing that involves a lot of running.”

Tony laughed softly. “Okay, Chariots of Fire is out.”

“Sorta.” Jimmy leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He wondered vaguely why being tired always made him sleepy. Then, he fell asleep.

They arrived at Tony’s apartment just in time to dodge a fist fight.

Jimmy asked Tony, “Aren’t you going to do something?”

Tony eyed the combatants, who were pushing and swinging in a drunken fashion. “No, I’ll call 911, it's not my job to police civilians. Let the LEO’s do their job, they don’t need me butting in.” He dialed, spoke, listened then replied, “No. NCIS. They’re civilians. If I thought they’d actually damage each other, I’d do something. Thank you.” Then he hung up. “Come on. Inside. I can hear the sirens.”

They went in and Tony locked the door. Jimmy eyed it for a moment then said, “That a usual occurrence?”

“Nope. Gonna call the landlord. Excuse me.” Tony ambled into the kitchen, leaving Jimmy to get comfortable. 

Jimmy took the big recliner that he liked and flopped into it, moaning softly. He hurt more than he’d expected.

Tony wandered back in, phone pressed to his ear. “I don’t care. If I have to call 911 every hour on the hour, I will. Hire someone.” He listened to a shrill yammer for a moment then interrupted, “I’m going to start putting my rent in escrow until the situation is resolved.” Then he snapped his phone shut, muttering under his breath.

Jimmy started heave himself out of the chair. “I can leave. I’ll ... um...”

“No.” Tony held up his hand in the universal ‘stop’ sign. “You’re fine. Stay.” he picked up an afghan and tossed it over Jimmy. Then he flopped down on the couch and dragged one over himself. “I’m goin’ to sleep.”

“Me too.” Jimmy snuggled down for a nice afternoon nap.

At Gibbs' place, the same thing was happening. Remy was sprawled over the couch, head to foot with Cosmo. Dean was out cold on the new recliner while Gibbs was dozing on the other. 

Tim was also sacked out at his place. 

.

The next morning was sort of like a Zombie Apocalypse, without the apocalypse.

At Gibbs’ place, everyone was up and moving. The moaning and cursing, mostly from Gibbs, made Remy snicker. Dean bopped him in the head in passing. “Asshole.”

Cosmo just grabbed Gibbs’ coffee. Gibbs glowered but poured himself another cup. Cosmo was nearly inhuman without coffee. 

Dean took Cosmo’s coffee and fended off a grab to get it back. “No. Get another. Unless you want burned toast.”

Cosmo allowed that, “No, burned toast is disgusting.”

Gibbs just moved out of the way and watched the younger men squabble amiably over coffee and who was cooking what. 

Remy grinned at Gibbs. Gibbs grinned back. “Welcome to my nightmare.”

Gibbs just shrugged. “Not really that bad. At least they stay away from my boat.”

They sat down to a huge breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, toast, coffee and orange juice. 

When they were done, Gibbs went to check rucks, and Cosmo and Dean went out into the back yard to work on the new grill. Remy went to sidewalk supervise. 

They spent the rest of the day fiddling with the grill and messing around, doing not much of anything. They all rested better when they were engaged in something, rather than lying around. That just made them restless.

.

 

Tony woke with a groan. He hurt all over. He’d expected to, but he didn’t have to like it. He knew he’d feel much better after a hot shower and some food.

Jimmy poked his head in the door. “I’m up too. Breakfast first or flip for a shower? Um ... unless you want to claim it, as it’s your house.”

Tony sorted that out then said, “You’re a guest, so you get first dibs. I’m making coffee. Go shower.”

Jimmy headed off to the bathroom while Tony grumbled his way out of the bed and shuffled into the kitchen to make coffee. He knew he wasn’t worth a shit until after his first cup. He could manage quite well, thankyouverymuch, but didn’t see why he should have to.

.

Tim woke, realized that something was very off and got up glaring at the clock that dared to tell him it was nearly 1100. He sniffed. Something smelled like ― burning insulation?

He got up and wandered around his apartment, sniffing. He couldn’t locate the source of the smell and that bothered him.

It bothered him so much that he got his bug-out box and put it by the door. He took his external hard drive off his entertainment center and put it in the box. He gathered up everything else of any value that was still in the apartment and stuck it in the box. 

He realized that all his expensive winter things were still in storage and everything summer would fit in one suitcase. He decided he was paranoid as hell, packing everything because of a smell. But he kept packing.

It took him a rather depressing 10 minutes to get everything he wanted into the box and suitcase. Everything else was easily replaced. He even had room for his typewriter, even though he’d nearly quit using it. 

He decided to take his stuff down to his car and then check around. He managed to carry the box and pull his suitcase at the same time. He shoved the box into his trunk and got the suitcase behind the seat. His ruck was at Gibbs' place, as he’d forgotten it yesterday.

A slow walk around the building didn’t reveal anything untoward but his neck was prickling so he started another lap. He was joined by a neighbor who asked him if he smelled something. He admitted that he had, couldn’t place what it was or where it was coming from. He also admitted that he’d moved the majority of his valuables to his car.

The neighbor shook his head. “Good idea. If it’s nothing we’ll look silly. But I’d rather look silly than lose some things. I’m gonna do the same thing.” And he went off to get photo albums and videos and some clothes. His wife complained but helped.

A third lap had Tim convinced that he was nuts and he was just about to go back inside when the windows of an apartment on the other side of the building from his exploded outwards, scattering glass and rubble across the grass.

He grabbed his phone and called 911 then ran to knock on doors and start getting people out. He worried, for a moment, that he should have started sooner, but one thing Gibbs had ground into his head was, ‘You can only do your best.’ He’d done his best and he really didn’t see how he could expect people to react with anything but scorn to being told, ‘Leave now. I smelled something.’ He scoffed to himself then went back to hammering on doors and shouting, “Building’s on fire! Get out! Now!”

He was finally dragged out by a fireman who told him the building was clear. He stumbled out, coughing like a 5-pack-a-dayer. Someone handed him a bottle of water, waited until he’d had a drink then slapped an oxygen mask over his face. 

He started to pull it off but a hand stopped him. “Keep it on for a few minutes. You’ve got a lungful of smoke. Let it clear.”

He nodded and slumped where he sat, watching his home burn.

.

“Jesus Fuck me!” 

Gibbs ran inside. “What!?” The rest of the group joined him.

Dean was grabbing boots as he bellowed. “McGee’s place is on fire. Come on.”

Everyone sorted themselves quickly. Gibbs’ bellow settled things easily.

“Shadup, ball bags! Dean and I’ll go. You two lugnuts stay here. No sense in adding to the confusion. If we need you, we’ll call you.” He turned to bark at Dean, “Damn it, Dean, move your ass. And someone call AJ.”

So they sorted themselves, Dean and Gibbs heading for the apartment while Remy called Tony to give him the news.

But Tony already knew. Jimmy answered the phone and said that, due to the condition of his foot, he was at Tony’s place while Tony drove over to get Tim.

.

Tim looked up when a shadow fell over him. “Aw, McGee. Damn.” Tony crouched down beside his friend. “You ok?”

Tim took off the mask so he could talk. “Yeah, just got a lungful. I smelled something off and went looking. Didn’t find it. Things kinda blew up. I knocked on doors and stuff.”

Tony patted his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get you up.” 

Tony pulled, Tim pushed and he found himself on his feet. He looked around at the organized chaos that was firefighting and sighed. “I think they blocked me in.”

“Forget your car. It’ll be ok here.” Tony glanced around to find Tim’s car. It was blocked in by a pickup on one side and a fire truck on the other. 

Tim sighed. “It’s got all my worldly possessions in it. That is, everything that’s not in storage.”

Tony looked around; leaving an expensive car full of stuff didn’t look like a good idea.

He was glaring at the Boxter when Gibbs pulled up with Dean. Dean bailed before the SUV was even parked. 

“Man, Digimon, you scared the shit out of us. You okay?” He gave Tim a visual. “You look okay. So, now what?”

Gibbs trotted over, he’d taken the time to park properly. “You got ‘im?” Tony nodded. “I’m gonna see the medic,” and with that, Gibbs was gone again.

Dean nodded to Tony. “AJ.”

“Dean. We need to get this goofball into the SUV and over to my place.”

Gibbs returned. “Medic said to see that he rests today. He can do anything he wants tomorrow. We’ll take him over to my place.”

Tony shook his head. “My place. Jimmy’s there. We’ll sort things later today. He’s got to have a new place asap.”

Tim just stood. He knew he was in shock, he was starting to shiver. “Boss? I ... um ... where?”

Gibbs thought for a second. “AJ, your idea is best. But we need to get his stuff, the vultures are circling.”

They all looked around. There was a crowd of bystanders behind tape and none of them looked good. The residents were all gathered in the parking lot, being sorted by the Red Cross.

A firefighter came over to say, “If you need them, the Red Cross is here.”

Tim looked at him for a second then said, “I’ve got something better. My friends. Thanks.”

Gibbs eyed Tim’s car. “How much does that thing weigh?”

Tim shivered, thought, then said, “Two thousand eight hundred and eighty-eight pounds. Why?”

Tony eyed Gibbs, then the Boxter. “Boss, you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

“Probably. Really need six guys.” Gibbs looked around again. He saw what he needed and trotted over to a small group of muscular looking guys. “Hey, there. Help a fellow out?”

One of the young men shrugged. “Don’t know what we can do, but ... sure.”

Gibbs explained, “My friend is one of the people who got burned out. He’s parked in and we need to get him out, but no one’s going to move a fire truck just for him. So.”

There was a bit of laughter, then they realized that Gibbs was serious. 

“Man, we can’t lift a car. That’s just crazy.” The leader of the group shook his head.

Gibbs replied, “It weighs right at a ton and a half. Six guys in good shape could do it. We’ve got ...” he counted quickly. “The three of us and four of you ... we could do it. Come on.”

The guys looked at each other then followed Gibbs.

At his direction they all took places around the car, lifted it, and walked it over the low curb and into the street on the other side of a rather narrow strip of grass. They put the car down, high fived each other and went off to watch the fire again. 

The evening news had a short ‘feel good’ piece about the men who picked up a car and carried it out to the road so that one of the victims of the fire could leave with what things he still possessed. The interview was with a young, fresh-faced high-schooler who admitted that they’d done it on a dare from some ‘old, grey guy’ who’d told them a team could do anything it put its mind to. 

.  
Chapter six

Jimmy wasn’t that surprised when Tony brought Tim home with him. He’d already called Ducky to come over. He wasn’t leaving the older man out. Ducky would be incredibly hurt if he did.

He also called Abby and Director Vance.

Abby had babbled and yelped, ‘Ohmygod.’ a few times. Jimmy had promised to call her again as soon as he knew anything.

Director Vance told him to have Gibbs call as soon as they had things settled.

Jimmy winced as he put his foot down wrong and jabbed the raw, open wound on his heel. “Shit!”

Ducky, just coming in the door, didn’t say anything about the profanity, he just admonished, “Is that covered? If it is not, I’m going to be very displeased.”

Jimmy admitted that he’d snitched a pair of Tony’s cotton tube socks and just stuck a 4x to the heel.

Ducky insisted on fixing it properly, while Jimmy complained, ‘I don’t see how it can be so hard to fix your own foot. Heels are hard.’ He agreed, patted Jimmy on the leg and got up. Just in time too.

Gibbs opened the door while Dean and Tony supported Tim from both sides. He was grumbling, “I could just as easily driven myself. I’m fine.” Then he started coughing.

“No, you are not fine. That cough is awful. And I should know.” Tony got out of the way so Tim could sit down. 

Tim flopped on the couch but struggled upright at Ducky’s motion.

Ducky listened to Tim’s chest, had him cough then nodded. “Just a bit of smoke. You’ll be fine in the morning. But ... my dear boy ... this is a tragedy.”

Tim sighed. “Not that much, actually. I decided to move about three months ago. Just waiting for my lease to be up. I’ve put most of my collectables and all my valuables into climate-controlled storage. Everything I lost was common stuff. I’ve got renter’s insurance. I’m okay. Just ... shocky. I wonder what happened? I smelled something, but couldn’t figure out what it was. I got as many people out as I could. I’m ... tired.”

Tony just handed Tim a cup of cocoa. “Here, drink this. Sugar and caffeine. Fix you right up.” He dropped an afghan around his shoulders and coaxed him to drink.

Jimmy sighed. “Damn. This is a mess.” He shook his head. “Dr. Mallard, you okay?”

Ducky was looking a bit the worse for wear. “I’m fine. Just took a bit of a tumble in the back garden. It needs work that I’m just not up to anymore. I’ll have to find a gardener.”

Jimmy shook his head. “Don’t do that. I’ll come over and do it. I don’t mind.”

“Now, James, you know I hate to impose.” Ducky was grateful that Jimmy wanted to come help him, but he wanted to make sure that he didn’t feel like it was a requirement.

“Actually, I like to. I love gardening but Mother ... she has her ways and insists that I do it her way, even when I’ve proven that it’s killing all the iris.” Jimmy loved the iris that his father had planted when he was eight. But cutting them back while they were still green was killing them off. “Um ... Dr Mallard ... if I were to bring starts, could I plant them at your place?”

“Certainly, my boy. I’d be pleased to have them. I’ve actually got a bed that is empty. The old owner planted annuals in it but it’s gotten beyond my strength to plant and care for them.” Ducky was bleakly looking at giving up his independence as he got older. He needed just a bit of help with cleaning, making beds and such, but it was hard to find someone dependable.

Jimmy noticed the sad expression and asked, “Is something wrong? Did I do something?”

“No, no, my dear boy. I was just ... contemplating the loss of my independence. I’m getting too old to care for the house, small as it is, by myself. I can’t find help that I trust, so ... I’m going to have to move into an apartment.” He sighed.

Jimmy found that his mouth often over-ran his brain, and this was one of those times. “But ... Well ... I could move in with you. That is, Mom and I are always arguing about the dumbest stuff and she won’t compromise. I have to give her all my pay, except for an allowance and she ... well. Oh, my gosh. I didn’t ... that is ... well, shit.” He hid his blush behind a hand.

Ducky, for his part, brightened. “James Palmer. If you meant that, I accept. I’m sure we’ll rub along quite well. You’re a grown man. I need a companion, helper, and general dogsbody. You’ll do admirably.”

Jimmy also brightened. “I can pay some rent. And, if you don’t want too much, I can get a good start on paying off my school loans. And it’s closer. And I can drive you, or you can drive me, or we can take turns.”

Ducky silenced this babble-fest by patting Jimmy on the arm. “You’ll not pay rent. You’ll pay your due by doing all the chores that are beyond me. The gardening, mowing, cleaning gutters. I’ll also leave most of the kitchen cleanup to you. Quite selfish on my part but I do so hate it. However, I’ll be most displeased if you put Mother’s best china in the dish-washing machine.”

Jimmy sputtered a bit indignantly. “The damask rose with the gold accents? I’d never. It’s too pretty and much too valuable. It has to be hand-washed.”

“Exactly. Do you need anything for tonight?” Ducky didn’t look forward to driving all the way out to Jimmy’s mother’s place.

The rest of the group, realizing that this was a bit private, ignored them with all the aplomb of people used to living in close quarters. The only privacy to be had in barracks was provided by fellow enlisted ignoring what was going on.

Tim smiled a bit, even upset as he was; Jimmy really needed to get away from his Mother. She loved him, no one would deny that, but she also smothered him. Ducky needed help to live alone. When his mother had been alive there had been various caregivers in and out, but now that she was gone, he had to manage alone. Jimmy was perfect. They got along well together. Jimmy was used to Ducky’s odd ways. And he was perfectly capable of managing the small house, or calling someone to help him. Something that Ducky didn’t seem to be able to bring himself to do.

So after a bit of wrangling on Remy’s part, Jimmy agreed to go to Ducky’s house for the night. Remy detailed Dean to get him in the morning, take him to his mother’s house and help him pack up his things. The SUV would hold everything he owned.

Tim was listening to all this a bit muzzily. He was still shocky and cold. But, while Ducky and Jimmy had been getting organized, Remy and Cosmo had been fixing soup. Tony and Gibbs had gotten Tim wrapped in blankets and tucked in on the couch with a hot water bottle at his feet.

Ducky eyed Tim, smiled at the rest of the room and announced, “Well, he seems well enough. We need to get sorted.” 

Remy nodded. “Fine, Doc. I see it this way. Tim, here at AJ’s. Jimmy, with you at your place. Me, Dean, Cosmo and Gibbs at his. I’ve got to find someplace to live, off base. Housing is making me nuts.”

Gibbs just shrugged. “Get your shit and move in with us.” He glanced at Cosmo and Dean. They both nodded so it was a done deal. Remy was now a resident at Gibbs’ place. Gibbs smiled in a way that Tony had never seen. He, Gibbs, was realizing that a house full of people just made him feel better. 

Tim couldn’t help the look he gave Tony. Tony just looked back for a moment then said, “You’re welcome here, Tim. As long as you need. For good, if that’s what you want.” 

Tim nodded. “Thanks, Tony. I really appreciate it. Why don’t we just see how it works for a bit. I think ...” he sighed. “I’m really tired.”

Tony walked over to tuck the throw around Tim better. “Go to sleep. We’ll worry about stuff later. I’ll bring up the last of your things from your car, make sure it’s locked up. Sleep.” He looked at the other men. “Tomorrow, we run.”

Gibbs gathered his roomies with a glance. “We need to get out of here. Soup's on the stove, AJ. See Tim eats?”

Tony nodded. “I can smell it. Canned stuff but still. You guys go on. I need you, I’ll call.”

Jimmy nodded. “See Dean in the morning? At 0600 for a run.” Tony nodded and Jimmy began explaining as he escorted Ducky out the door.

Ducky, for his part, was delighted. He really did need a bit of help and it was lonely in that house after dark. Jimmy could be annoying but so could he. It beat living with his mother, or alone, to flinders. 

Jimmy was also delighted. He’d been wanting to move out again for ages but finding compatible roommates was hard. And rent was through the roof, or the housing was in a neighborhood that was more hood than neighbor. He wasn’t looking forward to speaking to his mother tomorrow afternoon, but that was for tomorrow.

Ducky went to the passenger side of the Morgan. “You drive.”

“But ... Dr Mallard ... you never ... I mean ...” Jimmy accepted the keys but stood by the rear fender.

“I know. But you’ll be driving her more often than not. Especially at night. I need to see how you do with a clutch.”

“Oh, okay. I’m fairly good with a clutch. I learned from ... um ... one of Mom’s boyfriends. He had a VW. German clutch but ...” he shut up at Ducky’s glare and got in.

After starting up, he let the engine idle for a few minutes, Ducky didn’t say anything about that. Then he carefully eased the car into reverse and slid the clutch in. It engaged without a jerk and the car eased into the lane smoothly. Ducky settled back and relaxed. “Very good, my boy. Excellent. Let’s go home.” 

.

Tim looked up when Tony nudged his feet. “Um ... yeah?” he sat up with a groan.

“Soup. You need to eat.” Tony waited until Tim was upright and awake then handed him the soup in a mug. “Watch the spoon.”

Tim nodded. “Thanks, Tony.” He sipped the hot broth then sat and stared into the mug for a moment. “Why am I cold? I mean, I know I’m sorta shocky, but why cold?”

Tony settled in the recliner. “Don’t know. Even in the desert, you get cold. Something to do with blood pressure, I guess. Drink the soup and get some rest. You’ll feel better.”

“Okay.” Tim finished the soup, which was mostly broth and put the mug on the coffee table. “I’ll get my stuff ... later.”

Tony just waited until Tim was asleep and went down to carry his boxes up. It didn’t take him long to bring up the box and suitcase. He, too, carried them at one time. He realized that this was all that had been saved from his apartment. 

After a quick rummage, Tony took the suitcase into the spare bedroom and left the box by his entertainment center. They’d either buy new stuff or integrate Tim’s stuff with his. He wondered if he should put Tim’s clothing into the laundry but decided to ask first. He went back to the living room to see if Tim was awake, but he was snoring softly and Tony didn’t have the heart to wake him up. He’d wake on his own and feel better for the rest.

An hour later, Tim was beginning to stir restlessly. Tony, treating Tim like a man who’d just come from overseas, patted him on the foot until he grunted, “Huh?”

“Tim, you with me?” Tony gave Tim time to get with it.

“Mmmm, yeah. What time is it?”

“Just 1530. You wanna go back to sleep or deal with your stuff?” Tony didn’t really care what Tim wanted to do, he just needed to know. They had to decide if they were going out to eat or having carry-in.

“I ... give me a sec to unscramble my brains.” Tim sat, with the throw still wrapped around his shoulders. He rubbed his face to wake himself up and realized that he hurt. “Ow! Man, I hurt.”

Tony, feeling the effects of the new exercise program, agreed. “Me, too. But, give it a week. You’ll either feel better or feel like you’re gonna die.”

Tim eyed him sourly. “Well, gee, sunshine, thanks a whole big bunch.”

“Sorry. Now, I brought your stuff in. There’s this box.,” he pointed to the box of equipment by the entertainment center. “And a suitcase. I put that in the guest room. Your room, if you want. At least until you find something you like. Or until one of us kills the other. Your choice.”

Tim stood. “I’ll stay, thanks. I’m sick of living alone and it’s not good for you either. We’ll see how it goes. Shower.” He sniffed his pits. “Ugh! Seriously.”

Tony laughed. “Okay. I’m going to fix something to eat. I’m starved. You want?”

“Please. I better eat something. I really don’t feel so good. Just shock and ... not sure what.” Tim headed for the bathroom.

Tony muttered, “I bet, shock. Don’t see how you’re doin’ as well as you are. Get burned out and just take it like a man? Serious balls there.” He headed into the kitchen to make something to eat.

Tony decided on some of the fresh vegetable soup and a loaf of fresh-baked bread. The soup had been easy; a couple of cartons of stock, frozen peas, corn, carrots and green beans, fresh onion, garlic, and potato, a spoon of thick tomato paste from a tube and ... soup. The bread was a pre-made loaf that he just took out of the wrapper and popped into the oven. The whole thing was on the make in less than ten minutes, the soup would be done as soon as it was hot, the package said the bread took 30 min.

Tim got into the shower and scrubbed himself. He could smell smoke. He was sure it was just an illusion, until he got a whiff of his clothing as he got out of the shower, they stank of sour smoke. “Ok, I’m not crazy. Ugh.” He wadded his things up and shoved them into a trash sack he dug out from under the sink. This would contain the smell until he could wash them.

He wandered back to the kitchen, drying his hair on a towel. He’d found a terry robe on the back of the bathroom door and put it on. It was warm and fell to below his knees. “Tony. Hey, I borrowed your robe. I hope you don’t mind, but it’s really warm.”

Tony looked over his shoulder then chuckled. “I don’t mind. Father sent it to me. You can have it. I don’t like it. He told me how much he paid for it and ... well, it just pissed me off. He always thinks he can buy me. Not happening. Now ... bread. Veggie soup. Coffee or tea?”

Tim settled at the table. “I don’t care. Whatever you’re having. Then, I need to get myself ... settled. You tell me where I can put my stuff.”

Tony interrupted him, “I don’t really care. You deal with the electronics any way you want. As long as I’ve still got internet and cable TV, it’s all good. Here. Eat.” Tony put a bowl of soup and a slice of hot, buttered bread in front of Tim. “And don’t over-do. You’re still a bit out of it.”

Tim thought about that for a moment then said, “Low blood sugar. Once I eat, I’ll be fine.” He took a sip of the soup. “Mmmm, good. Scratch?”

Tony shrugged, “Sort of. Stock from a box, some herbs and frozen stuff. Bread is half baked from a bakery and finished off here.”

“It’s good.” Tim finished his first bowl and held it out. “Please, sir, might I have some more?” He managed a hopeful look.

Tony cracked up. “Oliver Twist? Good ref. Here.” He took the bowl and refilled it. “Eat all you want. And we need to set up a chore list and house rules. Gibbs did it with Cosmo and Dean. It’s a good idea.”

“You’re right. And first rule is, it’s your house. Your name is the only one on the lease.” Tim wasn’t about to take advantage.

Tony shook his head. “No, you’re paying half so you get a say. We need to divide up chores and make a list of ... stuff.”

Tim eyed Tony for a moment then nodded. “Ok. Um ... how are you with laundry?”

“Fair. And I don’t mind washing and folding. But you ask me to iron and we’ll have words.” He grinned.

Tim laughed softly. “Uniforms. Mom hated ironing them. Father would find some fault to pick. She finally told him he was high enough in the ranks to pay it done. I don’t mind. As long as you don’t get picky on me.”

Tony shrugged. “All my uniforms are permanent press. They’re cotton but don’t wrinkle. My dress, I have dry cleaned. Whites? Don’t even go there.” He made a face.

“Yeah. Whites. Holy hell. Who’s the moron who thought white was a good idea?” 

Tony shook his head. “No idea. I look good in ‘em but they’re hell to keep clean. And one smudge and you’re on KP forever. So. House rules.”

Tim thought for a minute. “No women. You date, you fuck her at her place. And we don’t eat each other’s treats. I hate it when I come home wanting something and someone else has eaten it.”

“You had a roommate before?” Tony didn’t remember Tim ever talking about a roommate.

“Sarah. She’d eat up something she knew I liked, just for spite. She’s my sister and I do love her. But I’m not blind to her faults.” 

“Ok. I’m not that sort but we do need to make some sort of arrangement. I keep all my snacks in the pantry. It’s not big, barely four shelves in a module beside the oven. We can move stuff around a bit and each of us have one shelf. The other’s for ingredients.” Tony gave Tim an inquiring look.

“That’s good. And each of us have a crisper drawer and half a shelf in the fridge. The other shelves for condiments and things we share.”

Tony nodded his agreement. “Good. As to chores. We each do our own laundry, but if I’ve only got part of a load, or you do, we combine loads. Laundry detergent and all that comes out of the house budget. I hate to dust, but I’ll run the vacuum.”

Tim drank the broth out of his bowl before answering, “I don’t mind dusting. I’ll keep the computers up and running and all the TV stuff squared away. We each keep our own room clean and take turns cooking.”

Tony thought about that for a moment then asked, “You gonna dust my room?”

Tim shook his head. “No. We’re each responsible for keeping our bedrooms clean. And picking up after ourselves. Turns on the bath?”

“We can make up a dry board and check-off list so we don’t mess up. I think we’ve got it. More soup?” Tony got up to get himself a third bowl.

“No. I’m full. Thanks, Tony. Um ... we need to go to my place ... old place. See if we can salvage anything. I didn’t have much left in the apartment as I was looking for a new, bigger place. But I’d like to see if I can find a few things.”

“Okay. Tomorrow?” Tony really didn’t want to try to get back to the apartment complex today.

“Yeah. Tomorrow. After we go to the gym. I think I’ll really need the exercise. I’m gonna lay down again. Okay?” Tim stretched and sighed.

“Sure. There’s a double feature coming on on ... some channel. Creature From the Black Lagoon and Creature From the Black Lagoon Returns. Love old horror stuff.” Tony ambled into the living room and turned on the TV.

“That’s good. I kinda like ‘em too. Mindless entertainment is good right now.”

.

Gibbs woke to the smell of bacon, eggs and… “Biscuits. Man, I’m gonna get fat at this rate.” He got out of bed, didn’t bother to shower, as he was going to be very sweaty soon, and went down to grab his share before Remy got down.

Dean greeted him with a smile and a cup of coffee. “Here. Gym first, then we have to go to McGee’s old place and sift through the mess. See if we can rescue anything..”

“Right. Good. We’re not due in until noon, Vance OK’ed the time” Gibbs gulped coffee and grabbed a plate. Cosmo just moved out of the way.

The same thing was going on at Tony’s place.

Tim woke up a bit confused as to where he was, then flopped back in his bed with a groan.

Tony stuck his head in the door. “Okay there?”

“Yeah. Just ... ugh. I’m really not looking forward to this. I hate going into a gym.”

Tony blinked at that for a moment then asked, “Why?”

“Musclebound knuckleheads. They all seem to think that I’m ... weak. Then ... I just leave. I don’t intend to have to fight just to prove I belong.” Tim dragged himself out of bed.

Tony shook his head. “You’ve been going to the wrong gym then. But ... you won’t have that problem anymore.” He stretched, displaying a flat abdomen and rather impressive six-pack. 

Tim scowled at that. “Showoff.”

“Damn right. Food.” Tony led the way to the kitchen. “I made sausage egg casserole.”

Tim thought for a second, while he helped himself to a big spoonful. “Shouldn’t we wait until after we work out?”

“No. We gonna have time to rest in the field? Answer, no. You might puke the first time or two, but your body will get used to it.” He eyed Tim’s plate. “But you might want to keep to one spoon.” He took a good sized serving himself. “And it heats up nice for the second day. Makes great breakfast burritos.”

Tim sighed. “I love burritos. You always bring the best ones in. I’ve asked you for the restaurant before.” He chewed for a minute. “They’re all home-made, aren’t they?”

“They are.” Tony acknowledged. He looked at his watch. “We better scarf this down. The gym is thirty minutes away, if traffic is good.”

Tim looked at his phone for a moment. “It’s not. Two accidents between here and there. Traffic is at a crawl.”

They grabbed their bags and hustled out.

They took Tony’s huge SUV. It didn’t make that much difference in the long run, but they both felt a bit safer in it than they would have in Tim’s diminutive Boxter.

.  
chapter seven

This gym was small and personal in a way that bigger gyms just couldn’t manage. The regular trainer, and there was only one, was an ex-SEAL, wounded during an operation. He was healed but not fit for duty anymore, not that that stopped him from being a RED. 

He eyed them up then announced, “Cosmo, Dean, Remy; you idiots know what to do. AJ, you do too. Get at it. You,” he pointed to Gibbs. “If you don’t know, yell.” He turned to Tim, gave him a good once over then shook his head. “You, I’ll work up a routine for. After an evaluation.” A nod of his head included Jimmy in that statement.

Tim just groaned, they’d done this once. He’d known he was going to have to do one, but he’d had a smidge of hope that the trainer would accept Remy’s opinion. Jimmy just smiled and sat down on a bench to wait his turn.

Gibbs knew what to do with every piece of equipment, he just wasn’t sure what weight to use; so, he put on the heaviest he thought he could handle.

There is a great deal of difference between training for strength and training for bulk. No one in the group wanted bodybuilder muscles, they wanted understated strength.

This meant that they would be doing small-count sets with heavy weight, using quick bursts of activity to build strength and endurance, rather than high-count sets with lower weight to build muscle mass. And none of them really liked free weights, even though those were better, but you needed spotters and they didn’t know the gym well enough to trust anyone yet.

Dean, Cosmo, Remy, and Gibbs all found machines and began their workouts, spotting for each other at need. AJ submitted to a quick eval by Hanson, the retired SEAL trainer, then went to join the group. Tim went through the required evaluation process, followed by Jimmy. 

Hanson, first name Avery, eyed the results, tapped at his computer for a moment then waited for the printer to do its thing. “Well, here we are. You’ll find that you need more protein in your diet and ... well, more of just about everything, including fat. You don’t want to lose too much body fat as you’ll look skinny. Don’t eat too much either.” He grinned at them. “I know. It’s a balancing act, but my job is to help you achieve the results you want. Now. If you know how to use the various machines, get to it. If not, I’ll put each of you on a machine and coach you along. Your workout won’t take more than thirty to forty-five minutes. Rest at least three minutes between sets. Let’s go.” He got up and led them to the machines.

Jimmy admitted to knowing how to use most of the machines and said that he’d start on one he was familiar with and call Hanson when he needed him.

Tim, on the other hand, had no idea and admitted that he was a bit intimidated. Hanson just helped him get started, coached him along then watched both Tim and Jimmy for form so they wouldn’t hurt themselves.

He also checked on Gibbs, but one quick look proved that he knew what was what. 

The entire gym visit took about an hour. After they were all done with their workout, Mr. Hanson, who admitted that he still answered to ‘DI’, called them all to a small seating area for an evaluation meeting.

“Okay, gentlemen, here’s how it is. Dean, Cosmo, Remy; keep doing what you’re doing. Gibbs, you’re okay; just step it up a bit. Been layin’ down on the job a bit. AJ, back from injury?” Tony nodded. “You just need a touch-up. Keep to your regular workout. Tim.” He eyed Tim for a moment. “You’re soft. Don’t over-do; keep to the workout I set up for you. You’ll do fine, if you do. And ...” he eyed Jimmy with some respect, “you’re a lot stronger than you look. I’d like to see you bulk up just a bit. What the hell do you do for a living?”

Jimmy flushed a bit. “Um ... I’m ... um ... an ME’s assistant. A doctor. I lift a lot of bodies.”

Hanson eyed him for a moment then nodded. “I see. Well, that answers several questions. You just need a bit more bulk and some fine-tuning. You’ll find that, with a bit of extra weight, lifting dead weight will be easier.” He glowered at Remy and Cosmo, who were snickering softly. “And that’s enough of that. You try lifting a dead body.”

Cosmo shook his head. “It’s just the phrase ‘dead weight’ hit us both odd. Sorry.”

Jimmy blinked then grinned. “Oh, I get it. Dead weight. Dead ... um ... never mind.” He ducked his head and flushed.

Gibbs glanced at his watch, nodded to Hansen and announced, “I’m starved. Let’s go eat.” he knew that his comment would stymie any more foolishness from the SEALs; they were all hungry too.

Dean grinned, “Good, I’m hungry too. And we need to make sure that Gremlin eats right. Lots of protein. Man’s too skinny.” That was when Gibbs realized that Jimmy was now in the ‘in’ group.

They all moaned and groaned a bit as they showered and got dressed, the SEALs in blacks and the rest in civvies. Jimmy wondered what he’d look like in MARPAT, not realizing he’d done so out loud. 

Gibbs laughed, “You got MARPAT at the surplus store. Tim got Navy stuff.”

They all headed back to their various homes to change into old clothing, agreeing to meet at Tim’s place in an hour.

.

Tim let Tony drive him in the SUV.

They pulled up in the parking lot to find that the police had established a road block to keep looters at bay. Tim showed his ID, as did Tony. Tim also informed the officer that he had help coming and gave a general description of Gibbs. In return he got the information that the insurance companies had set up a trailer in the back parking lot and had some sort of general agent to help them make a claim.

Tim thanked the officer then Tony drove to his old parking space and backed in.

They were joined by Gibbs and company before they even opened the doors.

It didn’t take them long to realize that everything was a total loss.

Gibbs eyed the remains of the building and sighed. “Sorry, McGee. Looks like it's a wash. You need anything, let me know.”

Tim shrugged. “I’ll be okay. I was letting the lease go anyway. I’d already started packing things up and putting them in storage. I intended to move into a residence motel if I couldn’t find something before the lease was up.”

Tony shrugged. “You’ll be staying with me then?”

“Yeah. If the offer is still open.” Tim couldn’t help looking hopeful.

“It is. You know damn good and well that I don’t leave my people hanging.” Tony swatted Tim on the shoulder.

“Ow. If that’s the way you’re going to be ...” Tim trailed off into laugher.

Gibbs eyed the two with a slight smile on his face. “You two girls better go see the insurance man. We’re outa here.” And with that, Gibbs, Dean, Cosmo and Remy went back to the SUV and left.

Jimmy gripped Tim’s shoulder and said, “Anything I can do, just ask.”

Tim patted Jimmy’s hand then asked, “You need any help at Ducky’s place? I know that back garden has to be a mess.”

Jimmy chuckled just a bit. “No. It’s really not that bad. Ducky cleared it a while ago; that’s when he realized that he needed help. I’m going to Mom’s and get starts from the iris before she kills them all. He’s coming too. Only reason we aren’t there already is, we thought you’d need the help. So ... I’m off too. Bye.” He trotted off to a truck that no one had ever seen.

Tim eyed Tony for a moment then groaned. “Insurance forms.”

Tony nodded. “Glad it’s you instead of me.”

They walked across the parking lot to the trailer and tacked themselves onto the end of the line. It wasn’t very long so the secretary who took Tim’s name told them it would be about twenty minutes or so.

As it was still fairly early on Monday, Tim didn’t expect much. He figured that the ball wouldn’t really get rolling until late, nearer to 5pm, when people started getting off work.

The agent who waited on him was a fussy little man with thick glasses, the caricature of an insurance adjuster if there ever was one. He fiddled with papers, tapped at his key board and then started his interview.

 

“Well, Mr. McGee, do you have an inventory?”

Tim, teeth set on edge by Agent Barton’s tone of voice, corrected him, “Special Agent McGee, Agent Barton. NCIS.”

Agent Barton made a face. “And what is N.C.I.S?”

“Naval Criminal Investigative Service. We deal with crimes committed by or upon members of the Navy and Marines, as well as terrorism and treason.” Tim already had a bad feeling about this man and his ignorance didn’t help.

Agent Barton fiddled with his computer for a moment then returned to his questioning. “Very well, then. As I asked before, do you have an inventory?”

Tim nodded. “I do.”

“Can you provide me with a copy of it?” Barton poked a pad and pen in Tim’s general direction.

“I have one on this.” Tim dropped a thumb drive on the pad. “All you have to do is plug it in and access ‘Inventory.’”

“You surely don’t expect me to do your work for you?” Barton made it plain that he had no intention of doing anything other than fill out the forms.

Tim sighed. “I guess I don’t. So ... do you want me to print it out or download it?”

“Neither. You’ll need to print that out on your own printer and bring it back to me.” Barton figured that would put things off until they could figure out how the fire had started. He was just obstructionistic on general principles.

“No. I don’t have a printer, nor access to one outside of work, and this is not work related. If this company is so poor that they can’t provide you with a simple printer, maybe I should call my lawyer?” Tim ignored the man’s indignant sputtering in favor of plugging his drive into the nearby printer and finding the appropriate file.

Tony, for his part, was watching with a combination of amusement and annoyance. This Agent Barton was one of those anal, hidebound bean-counters that drove almost anyone to violence.

Tim printed out the inventory then started crossing things off. “Everything on this list wasn’t in the apartment. I was packing piecemeal, as I was giving up the lease at the end of this contract term.” He rechecked the list then handed it to Barton. “Here, that’s it.”

Agent Barton took the list then, after a quick once over, stiffened. “I see. You do realize that this list, while comprehensive, is ... interesting.”

Tony stiffened. This was going in a direction he wasn’t comfortable with.

Tim, on the other hand, chose to ignore the implication. “As I said, I was packing in preparation to moving.”

Agent Barton not only stepped over the line, he gayly skipped into dangerous territory. “Well, we’ll have to suspend your claim until the investigation is over. Just hope that the fire didn’t start in your apartment ... or anywhere public near it.”

Tim and Tony both froze. Tony closed in on the obnoxious man, saying, “Excuse me? I do hope you didn’t just imply what I think you did.”

Tim, on the other hand, glowered with considerable heat and announced, “Oh, yes, LtCmdr, he just did.”

Agent Barton took one look at the two furious men and caved. “Well ... I’ll just turn this over to my supervisor.”

Tim grit his teeth and snarled, “You do that. And make it quick. I don’t intend to sit around here all day. I have better things to do.”

Agent Barton smugly informed them that, “My supervisor won’t be here until tomorrow after Noon.”

Tony picked a card out of the holder on a side counter. “Oh, I think your supervisor and his, or her, boss will be here in ten. Or else.” He dialed his phone and waited, “Hello, my name is Anthony Dominic DiNozzo, Jr. I’d like to speak to Mrs. Joan Parker, please. And do not put me on hold forever. Thank you.” He waited a few minutes then just told the tale and asked that Mrs Parker and her supervisor be at the trailer no later than thirty minutes from now. He thanked whoever was on the line and hung up. “They’ll be here in fifteen minutes, barring bad traffic.”

Agent Barton gulped. “Who are you?”

Tony just smirked, “You obviously weren’t listening when I told Mrs Parker. Anthony Dominic DiNozzo ... Jr. Senior is a board member. Shut up and sit.” He settled back on his perch on a book case to wait.

Tim leaned back in his chair, silently watching as Barton began to sweat. “Wonder if I should call Gibbs.”

Tony shrugged, “Bit of overkill, if you ask me. But, I’m wondering if he won’t get pissed if we keep him out of the loop.”

“I was thinking that exact thing. You call? Or me?” 

Tony shrugged, “I called the insurance company.”

Tim sighed. “Okay, okay. I’ll make the call.” He dialed and waited.

“Gibbs.”

“Boss, the insurance agent is not so subtly accusing me of setting the fire. You wanna come down? Or should I just keep you posted?”

“Keep me posted. If there’s trouble, I’ll go tell Vance and we’ll get our fire investigator on it. Might do that anyway. And Abby.” 

Since Tim had put his phone on speaker, everyone heard Gibbs. Tim put his phone away and turned to the agent. “NCIS has its own investigators and forensic experts. Expect to see them here if we can’t get this settled.”

Tony and Tim settled in to wait for the supervisor to arrive. They both refused to allow Agent Barton to let the next person file a claim. Instead, they both glowered at him for the next ten minutes.

The supervisor, Mrs. Joan Parker, came in with briefcase in hand. She was ready to do battle.

Tim was too. “Mrs. Parker.” He offered his hand, was ignored in favor of set up, and lost his temper. “I see.” He settled back to wait. Tony shook his head, silently wondering if anyone realized that, while Tim was exceptionally good natured, once his temper was up, it was sort of like playing with an IED.

Mrs. Parker settled behind the desk, waving her subordinate away. “Well, we’ll see. Inventory?” The pages were placed in front of her. “Yes. Well.”

Tim showed his teeth for the first time. “Very deep thoughts you’re having there. Seem to be very fond of thinking words, don’t you?”

“Excuse me?” Mrs. Parker blinked at Tim for a moment.

Tim didn’t take his eyes off Mrs. Parker while he addressed Tony. “Special Agent DiNozzo, you do remember what the Boss says about people who say ‘well’ a lot, don’t you?”

Tony nodded solemnly. “I do. They’re either idiots or lying. Or an idiot trying to think up a lie.”

Tim turned back to Mrs. Parker. “So, which one are you?”

She sputtered indignantly then demanded, “So, tell me, Special Agent McGee, exactly why you have most of your valuables packed up and in storage.” Her look said she wasn’t going to believe anything he said.

McGee repeated the story he’d told Agent Barton. He got the same incredulous look from her as he’d gotten from Barton. She waited a beat then said, “Well, we’ll see about all this. It’s going to take at least six weeks just to finish the ‘cause of fire’ report. After that, we’ll have to go over your inventory and depreciate everything.” She gave him a smug look and raised an eyebrow. “I do hope you have the dates of purchase.”

Tony just stood up and moved back, murmuring, “Oh, God, there he goes.”

Tim took a deep breath. “Fine. However, since you seem to be so obstructionistic, we’ll go you one better. I’m calling in NCIS’s own fire investigation team.” He tapped his phone then smiled at her in a way that made Tony cringe. “Oh, and another thing. I really, really hope you aren’t stupid enough to put your accusations on record. If ... and I repeat, if I was going to set fire to a building, I guarantee you wouldn’t catch me. I do have an MS from MIT and a PhD from Johns-Hopkins. My best lady friend is a Forensic Scientist, my best male friend is, not only a SEAL, but one of the best investigators in NCIS; bar none. My Boss, who I’m calling now, is the best in the business.” 

A voice from the door made everyone turn. “McGee, what the hell is this shit?” Gibbs was at the door and in full cry. He looked like he was pissed as hell which meant that he was considering actual physical assault.

Tony quickly explained the mess to Gibbs while Tim just stood and eyeballed the two Agents.

Gibbs eyed the group of Insurance Agents for a moment then said, “DiNozzo, you know that rule about Never Involve A Lawyer?”

Tony just grunted, “Yeah, Boss.”

“Add Insurance Agents to that.”

“On it, Boss.” Tony gave the group of agents his own version of a hairy eyeball. They now had three very pissed federal agents eyeing them like fresh meat. They stared back like a herd of cornered gazelles. 

The staring contest was interrupted by a voice from outside the trailer. It was the local fire marshal. “Excuse me. An NCIS tech is here. He said there was some question about the origin of the fire?”

Gibbs turned to allow the man into the trailer. “There is.” he pointed to Agent Parker. “That one ... and that one...” he changed the aim of his accusing finger to Agent Barton. “are accusing my agent of setting the fire. Why? You tell me.”

The fire marshal just shrugged. “Probably to avoid paying for whatever was in the building.” He turned to glare at the now huddling group of Insurance agents. “I assure you that my investigation was thorough, complete and detailed. As my report should prove. If you want to question it, fine. But, if you think you’re going to get away with refusing to pay what you ought, think again. In fact, think several times. I’ll be just as happy to investigate you. Or turn NCIS loose on you. Bulldog Gibbs will tear you a new one in a second.” He turned to Gibbs. “Your people are on scene and tearing things apart again. That’s fine with me. I’ll just append their report to mine. Then I’m reporting this company for refusal to pay appropriate reparations on demand.” He bared his teeth at the group and stomped off, shaking the flimsy trailer as he went.

Gibbs eyed the group of agents, insurance and NCIS. “What are you waiting for? Get with it. We’ve got better things to do than sit around here while you numbnuts get your shit together.” He turned and left, going to talk to the fire marshal and the head of the NCIS team.

Tony sighed. “Well, he’s not happy.” He turned his spine melting glower on Parker and Barton. “I’m not happy either. I’m sure that Special Agent McGee is even less happy.” He waited a minute then opened his mouth to yell.

McGee interrupted him. “Don’t waste your breath. You only yell at people when you know they’re smart enough to know why you’re yelling. Yelling at those two is like yelling at a two-year-old. Useless.”

Tony shrugged. “But it’ll make me feel better.”

“No, it won’t. You’ll only get a sore throat.” McGee turned to stare at the now cringing agents. “Well? What the hell are you gawking at? Get to work. I’ve got the inventory printed out; divide up the pages and get cracking. I expect a check deposited in my account in 48 hours. Or I’ll be back.” And with that, Timothy McGee, admiral’s son, stood up and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Tony looked around for a second. “You’re all idiots. That fire was an accident, or some sort of structural failure. I’d really expect most of the people you’ve already denied to be suing the shit out of you shortly.” He left too, refraining from slamming the door, but he stomped down the stairs, making the whole trailer tremble.

The group got to work and McGee had his check by the end of the day. All the other cases got reviewed and reworked. Several people who might not have gotten checks, got one. Several employees, including Mrs. Parker and Agent Barton were retrained, taking a demotion and pay cut into the bargain.

Tony watched Tim as he stood just outside the trailer, breathing like a steam engine. He waited until Tim seemed calm then ambled over. “Okay?”

“Yeah. But I’m writing a letter to the home office. I’m ... this is outrageous. Who ... what?” He stopped talking as the fire marshal walked up with Gibbs right behind him.

“Did you have any trouble with ... a hot water heater or your stove?” the marshal eyed his notes for a moment then looked up.

Tim nodded. “I did. The hot water heater would quit suddenly. Not good when it happened in the middle of a shower. And the stove quit a couple of times. Why?”

The marshal made a face. “I examined the gas lines and they’re all FUBAR. Rusted out. Who the hell put in steel pipes? That’s what I’d like to know.”

Tony blinked for a moment. “I thought all gas lines had to be made of ...” he frowned. “Plastic or something else that wouldn’t corrode.”

“They do. But this place ... the good lines were lead. The rest were copper or steel. Not up to code. One of the main lines just gave up the ghost. Ruptured and then someone flipped a switch or lit up a smoke. Something. Someone’s gonna get arrested over this. Three people are still in the hospital burn ward, and that’s the good news.” He walked away, shaking his head.

Tony eyed Tim a second time. “What now?”

Tim thought. “Rock Creek Park, ruck run. Just because... if I don’t do something, I’m gonna kill someone.”

“Okay. Let’s go. My ruck’s in the back of my SUV.” Tony knew exactly how Tim felt and was willing to cater to him. “Want to call anyone?”

“Call everyone. They could use the exercise too.” Tim grinned at Tony.

Gibbs nodded “Right. If we’re miserable, they need to be miserable too.” He started dialing.

It turned out that Tony was the only one who had his ruck with him. He called them all ‘box-a’-rocks boots’ then grumbled while he drove them to get their rucks and a change of clothing.

.Chapter eight

They met in Rock Creek Park 45 minutes later. And the bitching and moaning was, as Tony remarked, epic.

Remy was there, despite the fact that he really should be working in the Tactical Center; Cencom was wanting his results. He defused Tony’s glower by saying, “Dude, things are slow and I’ve got a search running. I don’t need to be there just to watch the computer chug.”

“Okay.” Tony shouldered his ruck.

“Asshole. Trust you to have your ruck.” Dean made a face as he donned his.

“Sissy. Man’s gotta do. And I knew we were going to ruck at least once this week. No sense in leaving things ’til the last minute.” Tony finished adjusting his own pack over his shoulders. 

As they got ready, Gibbs filled the others in on the problems Tim had had with the insurance. The replies were all along the lines of, ‘Well, shit. No wonder he’s pissed. What can we do?’ 

The consensus was that Tim needed to ground himself, and all they could do was stand by in case of a crash.

They started the run at the trail head, Tony checked each one of them to make sure that their packs were fitted properly. He also made sure that Tim and Jimmy had powdered their feet and the chafe spots on their shoulders and hips. He was meticulous and dressed Jimmy down for forgetting his hips.

Jimmy just dropped his pack and took care of the problem without comment. 

Remy and Tony stepped to one side to talk. “AJ, you takin’ over?”

“Might.”

“Don’t worry about me. I don’t do bastard DI well, and you know it.”

Tony grinned. “I know. You’ve done a great job so far. But I know you’re more a ‘mom’ type. I’ll break ‘em, you fix ‘em. And we need to get Tim and Jimmy into fighting soon.”

Remy made a face. “Tim ... thought he’d be better, NCIS an’ all.”

“NCIS teaches non-injury takedown. Doesn’t do to break the suspect ... in case the motherfucker turns out to be innocent.”

Remy made an odd noise then shrugged. “Okay, but I’m teachin’ ‘em Jew-jitsu.”

Tony laughed softly. “Got that one from Ziva.”

“Yeah. Heard she’s doin’ good.”

Tony sighed. “Me too. She wrote to Abby and said share with everyone. Hope she gets her shit together.”

They dropped that depressing train of conversation and returned to the group.

Remy barked, “‘Tenshun!” Everyone lined up at attention, even Gibbs, Tim and Jimmy. “Okay, you lugnuts, AJ’s takin’ over. I’m back to humpin’ like the rest of you swabs.”

Tony walked his troops, checking this and that. He took his time and did it right. He also impressed his men with his right to command. He knew that Gibbs knew what was going on, but he was pretty sure that neither Tim nor Jimmy got it ... yet.

“All right. Here’s the drill. McGee’s had a hell of a couple of days and some jackass Insurance adjuster had the fucked-up idea to accuse him of blowing up the building. Now he’s stressed. We’re going to take advantage of that and do a ruck, followed by some self-defense training. Questions? ... Bitching? ... Anything?” He waited a moment then snarled, “Well? Get moving.”

They moved.

It was now back to the usual way, AJ moved up and down the line of running men, barking and snarling. 

Gibbs set a pace he knew he could keep up forever and stuck to it. Tony didn’t demand that anyone run faster than their best pace. He did demand that the group stay together.

This wasn’t as hard as they had thought as Gibbs’ best pace was fairly fast. Now that he was in shape again, he was even more indestructible than ever. This put Dean and Cosmo right behind him, with Remy at their heels. Tim and Jimmy brought up the rear with AJ after them every few seconds to, “Step it up, slacker.”

Remy grumbled, “Fuck, Viper, set a killer, why don’cha?”

Gibbs snarled right back, “And where’s the kick gonna come from when it’s needed?”

Dean joined in with, “Not that you’re gonna have to worry about it.”

Gibbs snapped right back, “So, something happens to you ballbags, I’m gonna miss ya. Shut up.”

Cosmo just slapped Dean in the head and passed him up. Remy snorted and followed. 

Gibbs kept his pace, he knew that the younger men would be regretting their showing off soon.

Tim labored to keep Gibbs’ pace and resented, just a little bit, the fact that a man a decade older than he could show him up.

The only ones who were surprised to find a log on the trail were Tim and Jimmy. Everyone else just groaned.

“Suck it up.” Tony motioned to Remy to pick up one end of the log.

Dean, Cosmo and Gibbs just dropped their rucks and flopped down on the ground. Jimmy had no idea what was going on but he copied his friends. Tim was a bit slower but he followed, adding himself to the side opposite Jimmy.

Then Remy and Tony lifted the log and carefully put it across all their chests, when Dean and the other two experienced men pushed the log up, like a dead weight, Jimmy pushed too. Tim was a bit slower but joined in quickly. When the log was up, they held it in place while Tony lay down beside Jimmy and Remy beside Tim.

They did twenty sit ups, groaning under the 500-pound log. 

Tony commanded, “Up!” and they all pushed the log straight up. The command, “Over,” allowed them to let the log fall over their heads to the ground behind them. The third command of, “Rucks up,” had them putting their packs back on and heading off down the trail.

Jimmy felt like he was going to pass out by the time they reached the next fall-out point Tim looked like he was past passing out and somewhere near passing on. 

Remy gave Jimmy a firm shake. “SEAL up, dude. You can do it. Stop a sec and just breathe. You hold your breath too much. You’re going into oxy dep.”

Jimmy blinked, “Huh?”

“Oxygen deprivation. Your brain will shut down.” Remy shook him again, on general principles.

Jimmy just grinned at him and bent over to do some deep breathing.

Tim, on the other hand, was in really bad shape. He’d been holding his breath too and was now dizzy and nauseous. He was also sweating excessively. 

Jimmy gave him a poke and prod, announced that he needed a re-hydration and returned to his exercise. This round was simple, squat-plank-squat-stand, and do it 20 times. Twenty seemed to be the magic number for Tony. 

Tim went away with a by-standing medic that Tony had arranged for. They entered a small restroom and stayed there about 10 minutes. Tim emerged with a red face and an unbuckled belt, which he was rapidly fastening. 

Dean gave him a commiserating look. “Rocket?”

Tim made a funny whimpering sound, “Yeah.”

Cosmo just said, “Yeouch.”

Tim, still flushed and embarrassed, started the exercise and realized that Tony was standing over him bellowing, “Breathe, damnit, breathe.” He made a concerted effort to breathe as he should, helped by Tony yelling, “In!” and “Out!” and expecting him to do it. He managed to finish the exercise only to find that everyone else had already finished and were lounging around, waiting for him to finish. 

He started to sit down to rest too, but had his ruck slammed into his chest. “No! Took too long. Run!” so he did.

They ran again, keeping up the pace that Gibbs set. The three younger men were now regretting their earlier extravagance as they were beginning to wear down. Gibbs, Tony and Jimmy were still chugging along. Tim was still struggling while Remy was ... well, Remy.

The next obstacle was a small dam. It had been built to create a small lake for canoeing, but, as the river was so close, it was more a launch point. The water fall over the spillway was just wide enough that all of them could lay down in it with their arms linked. 

They trotted across the dam to the spillway and piled their packs by it. Tony lay down in the eight inch deep flow with Dean on one side and Remy on the other. Gibbs linked arms with Remy while Cosmo joined Dean. This put Jimmy and Tim in the shallowest part of the spillway. 

The only problem with all this was, the water flowing over the spillway was frigid. It was so cold that even Gibbs had cried out as he dropped into it. Tim nearly cried while Jimmy unashamedly whimpered.

They lay in the spillway for several minutes, Tim would have sworn it was an hour at least. Tony knew it was only ten minutes, his internal clock was amazingly accurate. When they were all shivering violently, Tony ordered, “Sit up.” They all sat up, more or less in unison. Tony took exception to the raggedness of their response.

“That was the most pitiful, half-assed effort it has ever been my misfortune to be a part of. Again. Sit up!” They kept at it until Tony was satisfied with them. They were now rising and falling in exact unison. 

“Good. Up.” Tony scrambled out of the spillway followed by the rest of his combined team. The moaning and bitching was loud, profane and indicated total misery. “Shut up, you lazy bitches. Run.”

They donned their rucks again and took off, cold, wet and shivering. Their boots squelched with every step and their clothing bunched in uncomfortable places. 

Jimmy grumbled, “Well, shit, I really, really hate being wet.”

Cosmo cheerfully remarked, through chattering teeth, “Beats the hell out of sand in your box.”

Tony snorted. “Or up your ass, in your mouth, eyes, nose and hair.”

Dean announced, “That’s what a shemagh is for.”

Remy added, “And for wiping sweat, straining coffee and water, and ...” he stopped, thinking.

“Everything.” Cosmo finished.

They finally came to a group of large rocks and the last exercise. Tony called a halt and ordered, “Chin.” The group moved to a lattice work of chin up bars and dropped their packs. It turned out that there were only three bars that were high enough that their feet didn’t drag on the gravel. Tony set Gibbs, Tim and Jimmy to work while Cosmo, Dean, Remy and he hugged rocks.

This wasn’t as silly as it sounded, the sun-warmed rocks felt wonderful to their chilled bodies. They literally warmed themselves by hugging the rock.

After Gibbs finished, Remy took his place on the bar while Gibbs chose his own rock. His soft groan of relief made Tony grimace. “Okay, there, Boss?”

“Cold. Good otherwise. You’re as big a bastard as I am. Asshole.” Gibbs' slight, crooked smile took the sting out of his words.

Tony grinned at him. “Yup. But I haven’t lost a man yet.” He looked proud for a moment, then his face drooped into sadness. “Yet. Lost a few friends though.”

Gibbs nodded. “Who, in our line, hasn’t?”

Tony recovered his smile. “True. One reason I insist on training.”

Cosmo grumbled, “No, it’s because you love torturing us.”

Dean shook his head. “Whiny.”

Jimmy joined them, finding a rock of his own. Dean grumbled a bit but went to the bar at Tony’s head jerk.

Cosmo took over when Tim finally finished, joined by Tony. They clicked their chin-ups off at a fast pace and rejoined the group. Jimmy handed drinks out, mixed from sports drink powder and water from a nearby fountain. 

After that, Tony went over their performance with them. His opinion was, Dean and Cosmo needed to keep with the group more. Remy and Gibbs, up to standards, enough said. Jimmy was catching up quickly while Tim just needed a bit more work. 

Tim looked sad and depressed after that. Gibbs joined him. “What’s that long face for?”

“I’m just ... useless. Father was right. I’ll never be more than a wanna-be.” Tim picked up a pebble and threw it into the creek.

“Bullshit. Your ol’ man wouldn’t know good if it bit him on the ass. You’re good. Real good. I’ve seen men in better shape than you were, fall out within days. You’re slow to pick up; but, once you get there, you’ll stay there. Just like us.” Gibbs smacked Tim on the back of the head. “Suck it up and deal.”

Tim grinned. “Yes, sir. I just ...”

Remy flopped down beside them. “What’s this?”

Gibbs told Remy about Tim’s concerns. Remy just rolled his eyes. “You really think that?” Tim nodded. “Well, shit. The Admiral really fucked you up.” He eyed Tim out of the corner of his eye. “I did some research on your father. He’s a bean counter. Been to sea, of course, but he’s land bound for a reason. And kept in a non-combat position. He’s a good administrator and can lobby like mad. But he’s not really command material. Alienates his subordinates. You try to get things done with a crew of CPO’s and WO’s that hate you and see how that goes. And he’s way too handy with GOMAR’s. Got him promoted out of command position.”

Tim blinked for a moment then really thought about a few things he’d heard. “Oh. I see. So, my Father has alienated all the right people and gotten himself in a position where he’s going to retire at that pay grade?” He shrugged. “Okay. Tough for him. What are we doing next?” He would think about this a bit more, later.

Tony had overheard Remy and snickered under his breath. Remy had given him a written report on Admiral McGee, sub rosa. He was not impressed. McGee, Sr. seemed a bit too much like his own father for his taste. He settled beside Tim, drink in hand. “Now, we swim. We’ll head up to Quantico and make use of their pool. Who’s riding with who?”

Tim groaned. “At least we’re not dealing with boats. Thank God.”

Dean moaned. “Oh, man. You had to remind him? Please, man, just shut up.”

Cosmo joined Dean in bitching. “AJ, no, just ... no. Not that.”

Tony shook his head, amused smirk in place. “Not today. But ... next weekend, for sure. Suck it up and deal.”

Gibbs just sighed. This was not going to be fun at all. 

.

They all piled into two SUV’s, one driven by Tony and the other by Remy, and drove to Quantico. The gate guards recognized Tony, saluted and waved both vehicles through.

When they arrived at the aquatic training facility they found that all the indoor pools were in use. This left them with a choice of outside pools. While everyone else was dressing out, Tony picked one, dressed out himself, then led the way.

Gibbs was very familiar with this pool as he’d done his initial training here. He eyed it with a disgusted expression on his face. Tim sidled up to him to ask, “Boss? Problem?”

“Yeah. Fucker’s not heated.” He dumped his towel, fins and goggles on the deck.

Jimmy unaware of the unheated condition of the pool, just jumped in. He came to the surface with a yell, then shouted, “Damnit, AJ, this fucking fucker isn’t heated.”

Tony nearly fell down laughing, he had to lean on Dean. Dean promptly dumped him into the pool. He came to the surface, still laughing. He tread water and barked, “In the pool. Laps.” he pissed off his team and Gibbs by concluding, “No fins or goggles.”

Everyone jumped in, most using a flat dive. They formed a pod around Tony, waiting for further instruction. He gave it, ordering forty laps, which is just over a mile. He also ordered combat crawl. The moaning, pissing and complaining made him threaten to add a lap for every second it took them to get going.

To a SEAL a lap is A to B to A. So they started their laps at the west side of the pool and swam back and forth Tony trusted his men to count properly and not cheat. They didn’t. They all knew, from experience, that cheating would bring down the wrath of AJ, something devoutly to be avoided.

Gibbs didn’t cheat because he was a Marine. Cheating was beneath him, as well as not providing the conditioning needed.

Jimmy didn’t cheat because he also knew that it wasn’t beneficial.

Both Gibbs and Jimmy were dragged out of the pool, exhausted and chilled. They were wrapped in warm towels and given hot drinks by the SEALs on the team. As they were more used to this sort of thing, they felt it behooved them to care for the other two. They then wrapped themselves in towels and got drinks too.

To Tim, a lap was A to B. So, his count was short. In the military, there’s no such thing as an acceptable excuse for short counts. Tony dressed Tim down like a raw recruit and made him start again.

Gibbs didn’t interfere but he did ask, “Bit harsh there. Think you rammed him?”

“No. Tim’s biggest problem is, his Ol’ Man always told him he couldn’t. Wasn’t up to it. I’m telling him, and showing him, that he can and is. He’s good, he just doesn’t know it.” Tony met Gibbs’ eyes for a moment then went to talk to Jimmy.

Gibbs kept an eye on Tim, hoping he made it. He glanced around to realize that everyone else was watching him too.

For his part, Tim gave up counting laps, he was sure that someone would drag him out of the pool when he ran out of steam, before he finished his laps. Turned out that Remy had to grab him up when he started lap 42. 

Remy hauled Tim up, saying, “Hey, Digimon, you’re done. Come on.” he helped him to the side of the pool and heaved him onto the deck. “There.”

Tim grumbled. “I hate you, AJ, seriously.” He flopped onto the deck and lay there, shivering, not unlike Gibbs and Jimmy before him.

He was quickly wrapped in sun-warmed towels and given a hot drink. It was green tea but he didn’t care, all that mattered was it was hot. 

Tony settled by him, rubbing his shoulders. “There. You did it. You actually completed 60 laps, plus. I don’t know your Ol’ Man, but I’d cheerfully kick his ass. Whatever he said, it’s wrong. Remember, I know you. I know what you can do. I’ll never ask more than you’ve got to give.” He swatted Tim on the head. “Hear me?”

Tim nodded. “I do. For my Father, I was never good enough. I always fell short. It was, ‘Why can’t you do what ...’ someone years older than me, or twice my size could do.” He frowned into his drink. “Guess I’m just too sensitive.”

Cosmo announced, “I swear, if he wasn’t an Admiral, I’d bust him. He’d be doing KP until he was old and grey.”

Tim couldn’t help a snicker, “He’s already old and grey. And a desk jockey.” He held out his cup. “More tea?” Dean poured. “Thank you.”

They all huddled in their towels and let the sun warm them back up. 

Jimmy did a health check on all of them then got a nearby medic to do one on him, remarking, “I’ll always get someone else to check me out. The doctor who doctors himself has a fool for a patient, you know.” The medic agreed, checked him and said he was good to go.

The group broke up then, everyone going to do what they needed.

Tim and Tony went back to their apartment to get Tim settled in, electronics up and running and chore lists made.

Tony also made a couple of calls and got things in line for a training exercise. He knew no one was going to be happy with that one, including him.

.

The rest of the afternoon was taken up with nothing much. They gathered at Gibbs' place for pizza and beer. 

Tony examined the ‘in-works’ grill and approved. The brick work was about three-quarters done and looked neat and tight. The grill and fire box for the smoker were commercial and still in their boxes off to the side. 

“Looks good. Boss?” Tony swallowed half his beer in one go.

“I like it. They ...” he nodded to Dean and Cosmo. “know what they’re doing. Good work.” Gibbs sighed. “Hand-to-hand.”

“I know. I’m a bit more worried about Jimmy than I am about Tim. FLETC teaches take downs and whatnot. But Krav Maga or ...” he grinned, “What we SEALs call H2H is more violent and deadly. They both need it. Jimmy, because who knows what might happen in the line of work. And Tim, for the same reason only he’s more likely to actually need it.”

Gibbs nodded. “I had the old Marine LINE training. There’s a new MCMAP that’s said to be better.”

Dean joined the conversation, saying, “I don’t know about that. I really think it’s more head space than anything. You get a PD on someone and they’re done.”

Remy nodded. “True, true. Some people just have to glower at their opponent and he’s done.” Gibbs grinned at that.

Cosmo chimed in with, “And that’s actually Digimon’s big problem. He looks about as deadly as a peakapoo. Seriously. Not good.”

Jimmy, shamelessly eavesdropping, asked, “What the heck is M.C. ... what you said?”

“Marine Corps Martial Arts Program. Sort of Mix Martial Arts with a Marine twist.” Gibbs shrugged. “It’s all about the same. A mix of Judo, Aikido, Karate and Muay Thai and Eskrema and whatnot all. You gonna have a problem with that?”

Jimmy thought about it for a moment. “I ... I really don’t know. I think no one really can know until they’re put to a real test. And not one on a mat. But ... if it came to defending a wounded man, I think I could. I mean, helpless, wounded man vs. wild-eyed terrorist or something? Wounded come first.” He gave a firm nod as emphasis.

Tony chuckled softly. “That’s my Gremlin. You’ll do fine. Tim?”

Tim, who’d also been eavesdropping, sighed. “I can. If I have to. I’d really rather not engage, but once I’m engaged I want to come out on top. So. What are we doing?”

Tony thought. “Well, we’re going to step up the training and add H2H. We’ve got another two weeks of desk duty, doctor's orders. Although, why, I’ll never know.”

Gibbs shrugged. “Ducky saw a chance to see us use up some of the sick leave that we’re about to lose. Offends his Scottish soul. So, we’re still on DD due to the three weeks he recommended we be off. He’s a bit pissed about that.”

Tony snickered. “I’m going to get paid for about half of mine. I’ll put a bit of pressure on on your behalf, Boss. No sense in losing it if you don’t have to. So, we could take Tuesday and Thursday morning off. That’d give us three days to do weights, yoga, tai chi, and H2H. And Monday, Wednesday and Friday for run and swim. We’ll be wheels-up ready in no time.”

Gibbs nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

Tim groaned while Jimmy just started making plans for what he’d need in his ruck. 

Another thing that Tony did was give each one of his NCIS team members a set of dog tags. The tags had their name, Social Security number, a contact number, blood type and allergies plainly embossed on them. 

Gibbs examined them then dropped them over his head without comment. Jimmy stuttered his thanks, eyes gleaming with pleasure. But Tim had to smile a bit sadly.

“I wonder why my father never thought of doing this when I joined NCIS? It wouldn’t have been that hard to get me a set.” He rubbed one with his thumb.

Tony sighed then said softly. “Aw, damn, Probie. I should have done that first thing.”

Tim shook his head. “Not your responsibility. But ... Father should have thought of it, just as a safety precaution. Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

Tony just gripped his shoulder for a moment then went to answer the door as the pizza man was making their delivery.

He paid and returned to the back patio with a pile of pizza boxes. Gibbs had ordered one for each of them. 

They fell on the pizza like the horde of locusts they’d been compared to. It only took about ten minutes for them to devour the pizzas and start looking for more.

Tony groaned. “Man, I’m full but looks like Remy and Dean are still hungry.”

Gibbs chuckled. “They’ve both got hollow legs. Seriously. They can fill up on sandwiches. I keep plenty of fixin’s in the fridge.”

Tim, full and drowsy, settled in the lounge he was sitting on. “I’m full. And sleepy. I’m glad Tony’s driving.”

Jimmy sighed, glanced at his watch and exclaimed, “Oh, crap. I got to get going. I promised Ducky I’d be home before bridge.” He jumped up and scurried around, gathering his things, helped by the others, who tossed things in his general direction.

Gibbs yelled after him, “I’ll call Ducky so he knows you’re on your way.”

Jimmy yelled, “Bye!” over his shoulder and bolted out the door. The sound of his truck driving away signaled a general round of laughter.

Tony finished his beer and contemplated the empty bottle for a moment. “I’m glad Jimmy moved in with Ducky. He’s getting old.” He looked around at the disbelieving looks. “Really. He’s like almost 80. Not old-old, but ... he should have retired fifteen years ago.”

Gibbs nodded. “He should have. But what would he do? Really, he’s not going to retire, he’d die of boredom in a week.” He dialed and waited, listening to the conversation with one ear.

Tim nodded. “He would. He’s in good health and sharp as a tack. He’s just not up to doing some of the physical work of maintaining a house anymore. He needs someone with him at night. He’s not feeble by any means but he is old.”

Gibbs said, “Ducky ... yeah ... he’s on his way.” He listened for a moment. “No, Ducky, he’s doin’ real good. I’d have been proud to serve with him in my day. Good-bye.”

He hung up and turned to his last beer. “Last one for me. School night. You guys had better head for home. Tony?”

Tony scowled at the near beer in his hand. “O’Douls for me. Tim?”

“I had two. Not fit to drive.” Tim wouldn’t drive after any liquor, not even half a glass of wine.

Tony nodded. “Ok, we better get going. We have to get up and run tomorrow.”

Tim just sighed. “Yay.” he dragged himself to his feet. “Seriously, it’s only Monday?”

“Yup. And not that late. You wanna do electronics today or put it off?” Tony made it to his feet with only one groan.

Tim thought about that as he collected his things. “No, I’m all for vegging, there’s no real hurry.”

They wandered out to Tony’s SUV and drove home.

.  
Chapter nine

Tuesday being an office first day, they all showed up at NCIS-Navy Yard at 0900.

Gibbs, Cosmo, Dean and Remy arrived first with Tim and Tony one elevator ride behind. Jimmy and Ducky were in the morgue, a quick call from Jimmy to Tony confirmed this.

Gibbs, Tim and Tony checked email while Cosmo and Dean sat down to a pile of cold cases. Remy wandered up to MTAC to make a call down to SEAL CenCom; his work was still top secret but Tony had found out that they weren’t in line for the op he was working on. The Tactical Center needed a few last bits put together, so Remy was still on the assignment. 

Tony grumbled a bit but settled in soon enough; cold cases always made him restless.

He wasn’t restless long. Remy trotted down the stairs and saluted sharply. Tony looked up, startled.

“Sir! Permission to speak, sir!” 

Tony stood up saluted back and replied, “Permission granted.”

Remy dropped into At Ease at Tony’s permission to speak. “I need a ride down to CenCom in Yorktown, sir.”

Tony sighed. “What the fuck?”

“Don’t know, sir. My orders from Command are to get there soonest. Sir.” Remy kept his eyes on a point just to the left of Tony’s eyes.

“Okay, get the stick out of your butt and come on. I’ll fire up the RotorWay Jet Exec, down Port-side. Let’s go.” Tony glowered at Remy. “And for god’s sake, as you were.”

The trotted off to get out the chopper, Tony calling over his shoulder, “Sorry, Boss, no idea how long this is going to take.”

Gibbs just hollered back, “Fly safe, Navy.”

Tony and Remy disappeared into the elevator. Gibbs eyed his phone with disfavor. “McGee. You got a number for Belt?”

Tim sighed. “No, but I do have one for one of the computer techs I met. If he’s on duty, he’ll give me all he’s permitted.” 

Gibbs nodded. “That’ll do. Call and see if he knows how long Tony’ll be.”

Cosmo interrupted, “I’d wait at least two hours. Give someone time to actually know something.”

Gibbs glanced at him then allowed, “Probably right.”

Tim silently sighed his relief. He didn’t mind making that sort of call, except when it was too soon. Nothing shut down the information pipeline like a pissed off informant.

Gibbs figured it out, after consulting with Dean, that the top speed of the chopper was about 100mph. Since the distance was right at 160 mi. it was going to take about 2 hrs to make the trip. About half what it would take by road.

Tony flew fast, the air was clear and the weather cooperative. He made good time, taking just under the projected time. He landed in a parking lot that had been cleared for that purpose. 

Remy waited until the rotors wound down then hopped out. Tony took his time with post-flight checks then followed him.

They met with Belt and Captain McKinley in the small conference room off McKinley’s office. The news was good and bad. Good in that Tony’s team didn’t have to go deal. Bad in that the team on site had found nothing worth reporting. This meant that their tango was still in the wind. And, for all they knew, headed their way. 

Tony spent an hour going over all the intel. Remy went over it all again. They didn’t see anything new but sent it to an analysis team for a third look over. They all hoped the team might find something they’d missed.

Belt glanced at his watch then said, “Might as well head out. You won’t be flying over to deal. We’ve got a team in place, just waiting for something to break. If there’s anything going on over here, you’ll be in place to deal. Go home, get some rest. Do not go back to NCIS and spend hours angsting over this. Land at Quantico if you have to.”

Tony just saluted and left, Remy at his heels. 

The ride back was even faster, as they had a tail wind most of the way.

Tony landed at the Yard, right in front of his hanger. He got Remy to help him fold the rotor and strap it to the tail, then they pushed the small chopper into the hanger, locked the door and left. 

Remy sighed. “I got a bad feeling about this. Something’s gonna blow.”

Tony nodded. “Me too. I just hope the destruction doesn’t include innocent civilians.”

“So, enlisted aren’t innocent?” Remy bopped Tony on the shoulder.

“Yes. Yes, they are. But they’re in the service, it’s different. Can’t say exactly how, but it is.” Tony unlocked his vehicle then asked, “Ride?”

“Na. I got wheels. Gibbs left me a company car.” Remy jingled the keys.

“Okay. See you in the morning. Gym.” Tony snickered as he drove away.

Remy gave Tony’s retreating tail lights the finger then left too.

.

When Tony arrived at his apartment the lights were on. He entered and called, “Tim?”

“In here.” Tim’s voice came from the kitchen. “I’m making stew. It’s about done and the bread is heat and eat. I was hoping you’d be home soon. I’m starved.”

Tony put his gun and badge away, dropped his coat onto the door-side chair and stripped out of his boots. He padded into the kitchen to sit down at the table and wait.

He didn’t have to wait long, Tim shoved a cup of coffee his way first thing. “Bread should be hot in about five minutes. Butter?”

Tony sipped appreciatively. “Yeah, that’s the stuff. Butter’s good.”

Tim grinned, a sly look in his eye. “Like having a house-husband, do you?”

Tony promptly choked on his coffee. He coughed and sputtered for a minute then griped, “Asshole. Shit like that should be illegal. I’ll get you back, just you wait and see.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Okay, you do that. Next time you spend three hours flying that dragonfly chopper of yours, don’t come whining to me that you’re starved.” He plonked a bowl of stew in front of Tony. “Here. Bread will be ready as soon as it’s sliced.” He finished prep by slicing the bread and dishing himself a bowl of the savory stew.

They settled in to eat the stew, hot buttery bread and drink the whole pot of coffee. They talked idly of this and that, Tim carefully avoiding any mention of the reason for the trip to Yorktown. They cleaned up the kitchen, squabbling absently about who should do what.

After cleaning the kitchen they sat down and made their lists out. 

.

The next week went by quickly. The whole group gathered for exercise then split to their various jobs. Team Gibbs worked cold cases, as Tony still wasn’t released. The SEALs all had nothing to do so they also worked cold cases. NCIS didn’t have any rules about TADs from outside sources, only that they had to be qualified to carry in order to go into the field. Anyone who thought that three veteran SEALs weren’t qualified was plain blind stupid.

They were all a bit relieved to find that it was Friday, 1700 and time to go home. 

When Tim asked Tony what they were doing on Saturday, he winked in a mysterious way and said they’d find out when they found out.

Gibbs, already aware of what was going on, just made a face and kept his silence.

The group met up at Quantico with their go bags in hand. Much to Tim and Jimmy’s astonishment, they boarded a plane and flew for about two hours. They landed in Connecticut.

They were met by a young Petty Officer named Porter, who cheerfully asked who they’d offended that they were ‘working a boat’. Tony went stone faced and said, “That’d be me.” PO Porter paled, shut up and drove them to a sandy beach. 

On the way Dean hissed, “AJ, damnit, make him piss himself, why don’cha?”

Tony replied, “I’m just getting a bit tired of all the disrespect. Just because I’m easy going, doesn’t mean I want people walking all over me.”

Cosmo nodded. “No. No, you don’t. I don’t understand why you put up with as much as you do.”

“Because being an idiot frat boy was part of my cover. It’s blown now. Thank God. And I’m done. Now. Boat exercise, log, and surf. Bitch now or forever hold your peace.” He smirked at the group.

Gibbs hadn’t done boat exercise, that being a specifically SEAL thing. But he’d done log and surf, both of which he remembered with disfavor, to be polite.

Jimmy, all innocent cheerfulness, announced, “Oh, man, I love boats and surfing. I’ve never managed to actually surf before, the board rent is too expensive for me. But ... this is going to be fun.”

Tim, however, voiced his concerns. “Um ... guys, AJ? You know I get seasick. I don’t think a boat is such a good idea.”

Cosmo replied, rather grimly. “You have no idea. But don’t worry about getting seasick. You won’t.”

The PO drove them onto the beach, handed out boonie hats and pointed down toward the surf. “There’s your Zodiac and the log is that way about a half mile.” He pointed north then clambered into the truck and started it back up. He shouted, “Pick up’ll come when you call,” and drove off. 

Tony took his hat, pulled a shemagh out of his pocket, folded it and tucked it into the top of the hat. The rest of his SEAL team did the same. Gibbs followed suit, only with a bandana handkerchief. He knew he was going to have a headache in about three hours, but he didn’t own a shemagh. He was pleased when Tony tossed one into his face. “Thanks, AJ.” Tony’s grin had him smiling back.

The rest of the team copied Tony, Cosmo helped Jimmy while Dean gave Tim a hand.

Tony then led them down to the Zodiac. “Gentlemen and SEALs. You SEALs know exactly what this is, the rest of you will learn quickly. This is your best friend. You will take him everywhere with you. You will not put him down until I say. You will eat with him. You will march with him. You will treat him like he holds your life in his hands. Because he does.”

Dean, Cosmo and Remy all groaned. Gibbs kept silent. One thing he’d learned early and well, ‘If a DI wants your opinion, he will either beat it out of you or give it to you.’ 

Tony pointed to loops of rope along the sides of the Zodiac as he called names. He walked down the port side. “Dean! Cosmo! Remy!” Then up the starboard. “Tim! Jimmy! Gibbs!” He eyed them for a moment. “And don’t think my bit is any easier. I’ve got to keep an eye on all you lugnuts to make sure you don’t kill yourselves.” 

When Tony barked, “Up!” Everyone grabbed a loop and lifted. The command of, “On top!” confused Tim and Jimmy. But when Cosmo, Dean and Remy put the Zodiac on top of their heads, they went along. Gibbs had an idea what was expected and managed to do what he was supposed to do. The idea that the shorter men would have less of a load was soon changed. The boat was floppy enough that everyone was carrying the same weight. On top of their heads. At a hard jog trot.

Tony didn’t have it any easier, he’d taken the bow of the boat by himself. 

He led them down the beach to the log. “Down.” They put the Zodiac down in the soft, dry sand. Everyone groaned when Tony pointed, “Surf.”

The SEALs immediately waded into the surf up to their knees, they then lay down in it, arms linked together and began to do sit ups. Tim and Jimmy stared but Gibbs linked arms with Dean and joined in.

Tony got right behind Tim and Jimmy and yelled, “Well? What the fucking hell are you two lugnuts waiting for? Engraved invitations? Get down in the damn water and get to work.”

Jimmy made a sound like a stepped on mouse while Tim darted to Gibbs and added himself to the chain. Jimmy started when Tony goosed him and scurried to the other end of the line with Tony right behind him. 

Tony’s command of “Rest!” left the SEALs bitching and moaning. 

Tim grumbled, “At least he’s letting us rest.” He was soon realizing why every SEAL was unhappy. The water was a bit chilly at about 50 degrees and had felt good at first. But the longer they lay in it the colder they got, until they were all shivering.

When he was as cold as he could stand, Tony ordered, “Out.” They all stood up and followed Tony to the soft sand, and the log.

Again, Tony and Remy held the log until everyone was laying down in a row then they walked the log onto their chests. At the order “Up!” they pushed the log up in a companion dead lift and held it until Tony and Remy were on each end of the line. Then they did alternating ‘bench’ presses and weighted sit ups, in unison. They were soon hot again. And their clothing was full of sand.

Tony finally ordered them to put the log down, over head, and not just drop it either. 

The next part was sit ups again. But they were accompanied with leg lifts, a combination exercise that was done by doing a sit up, then a leg lift, then touching the elbows to their bent knees. 

When everyone was panting, Tony had them get up and ‘love’ their boat. In other words, hoist the heavy thing onto their heads and jog. He pointed out a finger of rocks that jutted into the sea. “There’s the food. Let’s go.”

When they made it to the rocks, Gibbs started to put the boat down. Tony yelled, “SEALs don’t just drop something because they want to, Marine. You wait until you get an order before you crap. Got me?” 

Gibbs shouted, “Sir! Yes, Sir!” 

“Good. We’ll turn you into a SEAL yet.” He handed out MRE/s.

This was when Tim, Jimmy and Gibbs learned that they didn’t get to put the boat down to eat. They balanced it on their heads. And they weren’t allowed to feed themselves, they were buddied up with the man across the boat from them and had to take turns feeding each other. Tony was the only man not buddied up. Remy was buddies with Jimmy for the drill. He gobbled his MRE as fast as he could, keeping an eye on the rest while he did. He decided to have mercy, such as it was, on them and let them eat two meals. He took Remy’s place and let him hand out the second serving. He fed Jimmy while Jimmy fed him. 

The next chore was to run back to the log. But Tony didn’t let them take the hard, damp sand near the sea, they ran in the soft sand, making the chore twice as difficult.

Another revolution of surf and log, saw them all shivering and half frozen. Tim saw the sun start down behind the horizon and he started to put the boat down, assuming that they were done for the day. Dean stopped him before Tony noticed, “NO! Man, this is a 48 hour exercise. Do not do anything without orders.”

Tony did notice but, since Dean had stopped Tim from actually doing anything, he let it slide.

The next order was a bit odd to Tim, Jimmy and Gibbs, but all the SEALs had been through it.

“Ok, ladies, let’s wave the sun good night.” Tony had them all line up and wave to the sun as it set. 

While they waved he walked the line. “That’s right, wave good night. Think of the hot shower and warm bed that we could have been in. Only we, poor souls that we are, decided to be SEALs. SEALs don’t need warm beds, or hot showers. We live on gun powder and lead. We march until we want to drop, then we march some more. We do so that others don’t have to. We sacrifice so that others stay safe. Now ...” he watched as the last thin bit of sun disappeared. “Pick up that damn boat and get going. We’ll sleep at the rocks.”

Tony watched the last of the sunset, just as exhausted as his men, and knew that he was going to have to set an alarm, if he was to be up in 45 minutes. That’s all the sleep he was going to get, or allow his men. 

When the alarm in his watch went off, right in his ear, Tony woke everyone up by the simple expedient of yelling at them until they were on their feet. The sleep hadn’t helped that much and it was now full dark. But that didn’t make any difference, they continued the exercise. 

They alternately roasted, sweating from exertion, and froze in the surf. They sat up, ran, and did as ordered. Not that Tony had it any easier, he did twice the work as he checked his men, helped carry the boat and joined in on the surf and log exercises.

Tim gritted his teeth and stuck with it. Gibbs was grimly silent and managed to help Tim here and there. Jimmy cried a bit, but no one said anything. They all gripped, groaned and swore.

Every trip to the ridge of rock resulted in a meal, every meal let to another run in the loose, dry sand. 

On one trip Jimmy showed his mettle. “Tony, we’re stopping.”

Tony got in his face. “And why would we stop? Tired, Gremlin? Suck it up.”

“Yes, I’m tired. But that’s not why we’re stopping. I want to do a hydration check. I don’t think we’re drinking enough.” Jimmy met Tony’s glower with a level gaze of his own.

Tony eyed him for a moment, then barked, “Boat down. Mark time.”

Jimmy did his health check while everyone marched in place, even Tony. 

“Not drinking enough. I want everyone to drink at least 12 oz within the next fifteen minutes and that much more every hour.” He checked where they were. “If we go back to the rocks, we can get more to drink. I know we’re supposed to be at the log but I don’t want to drop out because I pass out.”

Tony nodded. “Boat up!” He led the group back to the rocks and had them, finally, put the boat down. He helped Jimmy pass out drinks. The exhausted men gratefully stood and drank the extra fluids; the respite from carrying the boat was more than welcome.

Tony took the time to look everyone over carefully. Dean, Cosmo and Remy were no more miserable than he’d expected. Gibbs was stoic, but the grim set of his mouth and shoulders told Tony that he was at the edge. Tim looked like he’d fall down at any moment. Jimmy was a surprise, he was doing very well. He was tired and his hands shook just a bit but he didn’t look worse off than Gibbs.

Dean sighed softly. “Man, thanks, Gremlin. You doin’ okay?”

Jimmy shrugged. “No worse than a double rotation in ER followed by a day at NCIS. I’d really like something hot to drink but I’ll be okay.”

Tony mentally smacked himself in the head. Jimmy was just off his final rotation as an intern. He was used to long sleepless nights. He was not, however, used to constant physical exercise, lying in freezing water nor having his clothing full of chafing sand.

Gibbs was miserable in a way he hadn’t been since Scout Sniper training. He was cold, hungry, thirsty and exhausted. He knew that they all had another 12 to 18 hours of this to look forward to. He wondered if he was going to make it, then hardened himself. He was a Marine, he’d be damned if some squid was going to out-do him in anything.

They did six more rotations from log to rock ridge and back, sweating, swearing, freezing and miserable. Tony dropped out once for a few minutes, the unmistakable sound of puking told them all what was wrong. He returned to the group without comment. Jimmy told him to drink plain water for a while. He acknowledged that with a grunt of, “ ‘Kay,” and went right on snapping and snarling at them all. 

Tim fell out long enough to puke on the next round, but he managed to wade out into the surf knee deep before ‘feeding fish’. Tony’s wry, “Well, glad the tide’s going out,” brought weak laughter from the rest of the group.

When the sun began to lighten the horizon, sometime between 0500 and 0600, Tony barked, “Boat down!” and they dropped the boat into the sand. At the command of “Attention!” They all braced, the SEALs turned to the rising sun followed by Tim, Tony and Gibbs. The second order of ‘Salute!’ got them all saluting the rising sun. They held the salute until the sun was up. As that took about 3 minutes, it wasn’t that long. But to the exhausted, shivering men it seemed like forever.

 

The next 24 hours were a repeat of the last, except that everyone was now staggering with weariness. At noon, Tony knew that he was nearly at the end of his rope so he made the call he’d planned on having to make. Someone on the other end was waiting for the call.

The next cycle found a DI waiting for them. He took over for Tony and kept them moving. Tony fell into the back of the line of SEALs, taking over the middle of the stern. The new DI was just as bad as Tony, only he was fresh. He kept them moving until they were working on muscle memory and autopilot. They ran, walked, did situps in the surf, worked the log, ate and drank by the numbers. 

Everyone was surprised when the DI barked, “Boat down. Salute.”

They turned to see the sun rising out of the sea like a sign from heaven.

They held attention until the DI barked, “Well? What the hell are you dipsticks waiting for? Fall out.”

They all promptly dropped to the sand, groaning like they were dying. 

The DI, well aware that none of them were now capable of coherent thought, got the clean-up crew in gear. They were glad to deal with this group, their usual patients had been doing this for 5 days with only two hours, total, of sleep. Some of them were hallucinating, all of them were so tired that they had to be carried to their rack. This group would be fine, once they were warm and had some sleep.

This was easily accomplished as the ‘nurse’ squad simply pitched a tent, set up racks and dumped the barely responsive men into them. They then set up a mess tent and started cooking. 

.Chapter ten

Tony moved uncomfortably, groping for something that wasn’t where it should be. Cosmo groaned softly and did the same thing. They woke up simultaneously and sat up. 

Remy mumbled, “Fuck! I can’t sleep.” He also sat up.

Gibbs smirked at them all and dropped a duffle on the floor. “Had it delivered along with some other stuff.” He handed out issue M4A1’s and. SIG-Sauer 10mm’s. He watched with some amusement as Dean, Cosmo, Remy and AJ settled down at once and started snoring. He laughed softly at himself as he settled in with his old Marine standards, a M4A1 and a Beretta .9mm.

Tim and Jimmy barely moved during all this. Tim mumbled, “Mmm? Wa’?” but went back to sleep when Gibbs said, “Sleep, Tim. It’s ok.”

Jimmy didn’t even do that.

However, this issue of loaded weapons did lead to one near-disaster.

One of the cooks' assistants didn't know exactly what was going on because he’d had a Darwin Award moment and zoned when he should have been listening. Culinary Specialist Humphreys checked his watch and realized that it was nearly time to end breakfast and no one had come to eat yet. Not wanting to see all that food go to waste, he decided to wake up the lazy so-’n-so’s. 

 

“Hey! Everyone up! Service is ....” he paled and gulped, he was now faced with 5 loaded and locked weapons, in the hands of four half-asleep SEALS and one wide-awake Marine. Tim was groping for a weapon he didn’t have, while Jimmy had armed himself with a tent peg that had been kicked under his rack. He’d found it when he’d dived under the rack. He really hated being awakened by being shouted at.

The Culinary Specialist held up his hands, palm out, in the universal gesture of surrender.

Tony immediately ripped him a new one. “What the fucking hell are you thinking, sailor? You really wanna be shot, stabbed and ...” he eyed Jimmy. “Pegged? Jimmy, what ... never mind...” he turned back to the sailor. “I really don’t wanna know. But I do want to know what the fuck you were thinking.”

“Sir! Sorry, sir.” The CS didn’t know who these men were but they were clearly Special Ops of some kind. “I was just thinking that it’s nearly end of service and I didn’t want all that food to go to waste. Sorry, sir. I ... permission to ... er ...”

Tony took mercy on the man and said, “Get out. We’ll be to mess in ten.”

Everyone turned to Jimmy who was half hysterical, lying on his rack, clutching the tent peg and laughing his ass off. “Pegged? Oh, man. AJ ... pegged? Seriously?”

Tony realized what Jimmy was laughing about and cracked up himself. The rest soon followed, Tim snickering until he tripped over his boots and fell onto the floor. This made everyone laugh even harder.

When they sobered up enough to deal, they got dressed in their still damp uniforms, only taking time to shake the sand out of them, and headed for the mess tent to eat.

The mess line was empty except for the servers, so they grabbed trays and started. 

The Chief Culinary Specialist announced, “Gentlemen, we have eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes, hash browns and coffee, juice and milk.”

Tony looked at the food and just said, “Yes.” The server he was facing looked puzzled for a moment then just started them off with a spoonful of eggs. The next in line added his bit and they sat down at the only table to stuff their faces.

Everyone of them went through the line twice, Gibbs three times― the fourth trip didn’t count as he only refilled his coffee. 

When they were done eating, a Chief Petty Officer approached Tony, saluted and said, “Shower tent set up up top in the parking lot. I thought you might like to get rid of all that sand and get clean uniforms. Sir.”

Tony saluted back and replied, “I’m sure we all would. Thank you, Chief.”

They trooped up to the parking lot to see the shower tent set up at the edge of the lot. A grinning sailor pointed. “The heater’s up and running. Not unlimited but, as long as you don’t stay in until you prune, we’ll be fine.” He saluted easily and went back to tending his equipment.

Tony led the way, stripping off his filthy uniform and wadding it up, stuffing his shirt, t-shirt, shorts and socks into the body of his pants and tying it into a bundle with the legs. The rest of the group followed suit. 

They were soon in the hot water, soaping up to get rid of the sand. 

Jimmy started with his hair and used the shampoo to wash the rest of his body, then he grabbed a bar of soap and started all over again. He felt like he had sand everywhere. Which he, more or less, did. 

Tim hissed softly as the soap stung raw skin. The sand that had crept into every fold of his clothing had chafed him. He had raw spots in places he’d never even thought of being raw. “Ow. Fuck. AJ, I hate you. Seriously.” But he was grinning none the less.

Dean seconded that emotion with a loud raspberry. “Asshat.”

“Well, fuck you very much, Dean. You wanna run out a’ steam over there, fine with me. But I don’t want to hear any bitching when Al Qaida decides to bastinado you or whatnot.” AJ’s tone of voice was amused rather than insulted.

Remy just patted him on a wet soapy shoulder. “That’s ok, AJ, I still love you.”

“Idiot.” Tony swatted Remy’s hand away gently. “I can’t wait to get into a clean uniform and get some more coffee.”

Jimmy just produced a tube of salve and started medicating people as they finished their showers. He’d rushed through his so he could be ready. He was amazed at some of the places sand had abraded; he let each man deal with the more private chafing themselves.

It wasn’t long before everyone was dressed in clean clothing: blacks for the SEALS with all appropriate patches, fruit salad and ranks; and MARPAT for the others. Gibbs was pleased, as was Jimmy. Tim was indifferent, he was just glad to be clean, dry and warm.

They made it back to the mess tent just in time. The cooks were about to dump the last of the coffee; they obediently poured it into the thermal cups that Gibbs had produced from his magic duffel. There was a bit of bitching that they all had the Marine logo on them, but not too much as he’d offered, with a sly smile, to put them away again. This would mean that they got much less coffee, as the cups were somewhere around 20 oz while the only other available cup was white styrofoam and held a meager 6 oz. 

Gibbs sighed, he hurt in places he hadn’t hurt in in years. But he also felt great. He’d kept up with SEALs who were up to two decades younger than he was and didn’t hurt any more than they did. He eyed Tim and Jimmy.

Jimmy was moving stiffly but seemed good to go, just sore. Tim also seemed ok, a bit stiff and sore but no more than was to be expected.

A quick glance at Tony proved that he was also assessing his new team members. They exchanged approving nods, they’d more than do.

“Ok, everyone. The next torture on the menu is H2H training. We’ve been discussing that while we got everyone up to speed. Now we get to do another assessment. I know how good Dean, Cosmo, Remy and Gibbs are. I need to know what you two can do.” He eyed Tim and Jimmy. “We’ll deal with that starting on Tuesday.” He refused to say any more, no matter how much Tim poked and prodded. Jimmy just kept his mouth shut, sure he was going to fall flat at this. The last time he’d done anything, it had been in Scouts and he’d barely managed his badge.

They all piled into a chopper, coffee and weapons in hand; as they settled it was plain that the two groups were now one. Tony grinned at Gibbs as he settled by his side in the front of the compartment. “Hope you don’t mind that I co-opted the group.”

Gibbs snorted. “Not a bit. Just so we’re clear. SEAL ops, your command. NCIS ops, mine.”

“Never doubted it for a second, Jethro.” Tony saluted his boss and friend with his coffee. Lifting the cup to his lips he took a sip.

“Me either, AJ, but needed to be said.” Gibbs saluted him back and took a healthy gulp.

Tim settled by Remy, with Dean on his other side. Jimmy sat across from him, with Cosmo between him and the open door. 

Remy nodded to Tim. “How much H2H do you actually have?”

“NCIS standard. Tony tried to get me to do more, but ... well, I thought I knew what I was doing and turned him down. Wish I hadn’t.” he managed to look ashamed of himself without having a pity party.

“We all screw up from time to time. It’s what you do about it that counts. He won’t hold it against you.” Dean smiled kindly at his friend.

Jimmy admitted, “I don’t know how good I’m going to be. Maybe I should just learn to shoot?” He looked enviously at the SEALs, they were all so comfortable with their weapons that they didn’t even realize that they were still carrying the M4A1’s on slings with the 10mm’s in holsters at their hip.

Cosmo settled more comfortably as he said, “Oh, Gremlin, you’ll do that too. When we’re done you’ll at least be able to rock ’n sock ‘em.”

“What’s that?” Jimmy wondered what kind of martial art that might be.

“Hit ‘em in the head with a rock, sock ‘em in the jewels, and run.” Dean nodded once, conformation of his belief in Jimmy’s abilities

After that, the conversation died off as it was almost impossible to talk without shouting. 

They landed at Quantico and found another transport waiting for them. 

The carrier driver had been given the addresses so he just drove to Gibbs' place first, as it was first on the way. Gibbs, Cosmo, Dean and Remy got out, catching their small go bags as Tony tossed them out. Gibbs took a moment to collect the arms, so as not to have someone go hysterical at the sight of Tony, armed to the teeth. Remy banged on the side of the vehicle to let the driver know to drive on.

At Tony’s place they told the driver to head back to base; Jimmy had seen his old truck parked in Tony’s lot. A note on the window said that Ducky had gotten Abby to drive it there for him. He tossed his bag into the passenger seat, said his goodbyes and headed home to crash for the rest of the day.

Everyone else did the same thing. 

.

The next day saw them all at the gym. Weights were done with quickly and Tony told the group that yoga and tai chi were now optional; his expression said that they’d better keep it up on their own time. H2H was taking their place.

The group paid a quick visit to their yoga teacher to explain what was going on. They found that he had places open in his late evening class; they filled them up.

Tai Chi wound up added to the end of everyone’s run. 

They went from the yoga studio to the attached dojo to see if they could get their reserved dojo yet.

They could, but the receptionist dropped a small bomb on them. It seemed that they couldn’t use the room without an accredited instructor with them.

Tony just shrugged and said, “Fine, but if he gets himself hurt, don’t blame me.”

They met the man at the door of the dojo. He was well set up but seemed a bit full of himself. He opened the door for them but went through first. Good manners would have let Gibbs, as eldest, go first, then the sensei, then the students in rank order. That would have been proper.

Tony just eyed the man up then said, “Well, let’s see who knows what.” He meant he wanted to see how good Tim was. That Jimmy was a total tyro was a given.

The instructor started out wrong-footed. “Well, first thing, you need to learn proper dojo etiquette.” He turned to find that all his ’students’ were kneeling properly, lined up and waiting.

It turned out that Clark-Sensei was of the mistaken opinion that he needed to teach them something. He even made a rather insulting remark about Gibbs being a bit on the small side for truly effective defense. 

Dean leaned his head to one side and addressed Cosmo. “He did not just commit suicide by Gibbs. Really.”

“He did. Yes, he actually did.” Cosmo settled back to watch with interest.

AJ shrugged and joined the conversation. “No better than committing SEALicide. Seriously.”

The sensei called Gibbs onto the mat, saying, “Well, we’ll see what I need to teach you.”

Tony moaned but Tim barked, “Tatakai!” 

The sensei grabbed at Gibbs and got tossed onto his butt. He fell well, but his expression of surprise was funny. He got up, Gibbs tossed him again. He didn’t get up the third time. Instead, he lay on the mat, a pissed expression on his face. “You’re not a bunch of arrogant, know-it-all, wanna-be’s, are you?” 

Gibbs shook his head, a solemn expression on his face. 

“Damn. I’m gonna apologize now and then go kill my counterpart.” 

Gibbs helped him to his feet. He bowed to the group and left. 

Tony stood up and took over. “Okay, now that that idiocy is done ... I don’t give a fuck about dojo etiquette. Take your shoes off at the door so you don’t ruin their mats. Sir me, and anyone else of rank to be sirred. Now. Tim. You and ... Dean. Up.”

Dean proceeded to toss Tim around like a rag doll.

Tony finally called a halt and announced, “Not that bad. Tim, you just need work and a better idea of what you can actually do. FLETC isn’t that good for actual defense. They’re more for takedown of a perp. Jimmy. You’re up.”

Jimmy stepped onto the mat. He proved to be willing but unable. He had been taught basic boxing and judo but never worked on it. He was, as Cosmo observed, terminally untrained. 

Gibbs winced as Jimmy limped to the sidelines. “Sorry about that, Gremlin. I should have seen that you got some training a long time ago.”

Jimmy was quite cheerful about the whole thing. “Well, maybe. But I’m only a Mortician's Assistant. So ... um ... can we just file this under better late than never and move on?”

Gibbs nodded. “Sure.”

Dean nodded to Gibbs then said, “Okay, Gremlin, you’re with me. I’m gonna show you how to fall without hurting yourself. This lesson should take a week to set. Then we’ll get on with it.”

Jimmy nodded. “Okay, falling. Not something I’m fond of.”

“Then you’re not doing it right.” Dean led Jimmy away.

Gibbs watched for a moment then turned to Tony. “Match with me.”

“Okay, not takin’ it easy on ya anymore.”

Gibbs whacked him in the head. “Not supposed to. Supposed to give me a good match so I don’t get rusty.”

“Ouch! Okay, that does it.” Tony tackled Gibbs, taking the lighter, smaller man to the mat. They wrestled, each man trying to get on top of the other. Tony finally overcame Gibbs, forcing him belly down on the mat with his arm twisted behind his back. He slapped out without hesitation.

Tony hopped up, putting some distance between himself and Gibbs. Gibbs laughed, rubbing his shoulder. “I won’t do anything. Pax.”

“Yeah, right.” Tony was decidedly skeptical, and not without reason. He’d seen Gibbs get up from situations that should have had him down and out. He cheated.

Gibbs worked his shoulder a bit, decided it was good and stood up. “I only cheat when it’s real. Training, I don’t.”

Tony snorted, “Unless you do.” 

Gibbs smirked at him. “There is that.”

They settled at the side of the mats to watch the others work out. As expected, they were all more than competent. 

Tony finally stood up, called everyone to settle by the mat and began his evaluation. “Okay, you animals. Here’s the deal. Remy, Dean, Cosmo and Gibbs. Do not want to meet you in a dark alley if you’re mad at me. Tim. Okay. Good against druggies and noncombatants, easily fixed. Jimmy? Man, not to put too fine a point on it. Hope like hell you can run really fast. But, you’re willing and I have high hopes.” Jimmy just shrugged. “I know. No opportunity. You’ve got one now, make use of it.”

Jimmy nodded. “I will. I’m not ... um ... not a fighter. But I need to be able to protect myself and a patient. I really think shooting might be my ... forte.”

Tony thought about that for a moment then said, “Well, we’ll teach you that too. But you really need to learn at least basic hand-to-hand.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Tony smiled. “That’s all we can ask.”

They broke up then, heading for the showers and a quick clean-up before they subjected a restaurant full of people to their presence.

After stuffing themselves with Italian food from a nearby excellent restaurant; they headed to NCIS for their afternoon of cold cases. 

Dean grumbled, “Why are we doing this? Seriously. What’s the point?”

Gibbs chuckled, “Stop and think. AJ, Cosmo, Remy, bored.”

Dean moaned, “Oh, no. Just no. Thanks so much. I don’t even want to contemplate that.”

Gibbs kept the thought that Dean would be just as disastrous to himself.

Gibbs was a bit irritated that Vance hadn’t allowed them full days off for the duration, until he’d realized that Ducky’s idea of taking time off and resting wouldn’t work. All the SEALs were off because Tony was off. This would lead to boredom, over-exercising and obsessing on something. This was not a good thing. So, full days until Tony was healed enough that being bored was turning into a problem. Then, half days to exercise up to full strength and the other half stuck at a desk; enforced rest. 

Abby was finally back in her lab. All her assessments and cleaning checks were done and approved. She even got a few new machines― her old ones were outdated enough that they were replaced. She wasn’t that happy about it, her babies were hers after all. But she allowed herself to be consoled and was now happy with her new babies. This gave all the SEALs something else to do. She shanghaied one of them to help her with heavy lifting from time to time. 

All in all, things were going well for Team Gibbs. And, as everyone knows, that’s usually the time when the shit hits the fan.

.

Gibbs stiffened as his sharp ears caught something he’d never thought to hear. 

“DiNozzo’s a fake. Never thought that frat boy would amount to much, except for being Gibbs’ gofer. Now, he’s all ‘I’m a SEAL’?”

He started to stand up and take a chunk out of whoever was speaking. He never got the chance.

Tony appeared behind the man and his companion. “Well, I am. A SEAL, that is.” Tony’s tone of voice was deceptively mild. “And I’m Gibbs’ 2IC. As to being a fake? Not. I’d suggest that you think about your attitude and adjust it. I will not tolerate disrespect. To me. To my uniform. To my rank. Or to Supervisory Special Agent Gibbs. If he’s satisfied with my service, who are you to make remarks?”

Gibbs could tell, by Tony’s voice, that he was furious. He wondered if he should do something then decided that, whoever it was, the idiot would have to deal for himself.

He did take a peek over the divider to see who it was. He thought the speaker's name was Hensen, but he wasn’t sure. He knew the other agent. That was Senior Agent Barth, a rather inoffensive man, more of a follower. A man who would never make team lead and was only a Senior Agent because of his tenure.

Tony glared at both men. “Either one of you want to start something? If you do, I’ll see you in the gym at 1730. Or you can just shut the fuck up now.”

Barth held up his hands. “Not me. Just listening to the idiot. I’m gone. And ... Martin? Stay away from me. You bring trouble that I don’t need.” Barth nodded to Tony, then to Gibbs, and scurried away.

Gibbs was just about to say something to Tony, he wasn’t quite sure what, when Director Vance spoke from behind him. “Martin, you’re an idiot. Do you actually think that I’d let anyone pretend to be an officer, never mind a SEAL ... right here in the offices ... under my very nose? He is what he says he is. And you will respect the rank and uniform, even if you don’t respect the man.” He nodded to Tony. “As to meeting LtCmdr DiNozzo in the gym? I wish you would.” He nodded to Tony again and marched off, back stiff with offense.

Tony shrugged easily. “Well? Don’t bother to answer. I’ll be there.” Tony then followed Vance, calling over his shoulder. “I’m going down to see Abby.”

Gibbs just eyed Martin for a moment then snorted, “Stuck your foot in it. Vance is a bit sensitive about DiNozzo. So am I. I’ll bring a broom and dustpan.” He smirked. “In case there’s anything left of you after that pissed off SEAL is done.” He shook his head then ambled away grumbling, “Coffee. I need coffee.”

Martin stood there for a moment then looked around to see several people looking at him, some with pity, some in outrage. He snarled, “Well? What the hell are you gawking at? Go do something useful.” He stormed to his desk to pretend he was doing something. No one commented on the way his hands shook when he picked up the phone.

.

Tony walked straight through Abby’s lab and into her office.

It didn’t take long before Abby’s pounding techno changed into easy listening jazz. One of Tony’s favorite sets.

“Tony?” Abby scooted the rolling chair over a bit and joined Tony, settling on the low lab stool that was her favorite seat. She leaned into him, resting her cheek on his chest.

“Disrespect. I’m so tired of it.” Tony hugged Abby, resting his cheek on her hair.

“Yeah, you put up with it from Kate, McGee, Ziva ... um ... don’t think anyone else? So they all think you’re some idiot. Stop it.” Abby poked him in the stomach. “I mean it.”

“I am. I’m meeting that jackass Martin in the gym tonight. If he shows up.” He tugged at Abby’s pigtail. “So ... do I whip his ass good, or just sorta?”

“Squash him like the bug he is. Make an example of him. You’ve worked out with Gibbs and your team and word is getting around. But ... well, some people are just blowing it off as BS.” Abby sighed at the stupidity. “So, you’ll have to ...”

Tony jiggled his shoulder, shaking Abby. “Kick his ass, hard.”

“Yeah. Just don’t break anything major.” Abby kissed Tony on the cheek then got up. “And come carry this big box for me. I’m all done with it, so it can go back to Evidence.” She waved a hand at him. “And stop calling them Baggie Bunnies. It’s awful. They’re not saggy. Now shoo.”

Tony chuckled, picked up the box and headed out to Evidence. The box wasn’t all that heavy but it was big and a bit awkward for Abby’s shorter arms.

.

Tony effectively avoided everyone for the rest of the day. He spent part of it in MTAC and part translating for an interrogation. What time he didn’t spend in those two activities, he spent simply hiding out. No one knew where he went and Remy actively dissuaded people who asked from looking for him. He’d be found when he wanted and not before.

When he wanted was at exactly 1720; he came strolling into the gym from the locker room with a small smile on his lips. He’d heard Martin complaining to one of the trainers that he didn’t want to fight, he was sure he’d hurt him, Tony, and get in trouble with Vance. The remark that had made him smile was, “So, he’s teacher’s pet. That’s new.”

Tony was wearing old gym clothing, sweats that had seen better days and a t-shirt that was nearly thin enough to read through. He looked hard and lean and mean. 

Martin came out of the lockers wearing new sweats and a muscle shirt. This wasn’t as impressive as it was meant to be, as his exposed torso was pasty white and the sweats hugged a burgeoning beer belly. The fact that his pecs and biceps were a bit flabby didn’t help the picture any either.

Tony refrained from flexing like some muscle-bound idiot; instead, he... rippled, flexing in a wave down his body. He smiled at the trainer who had agreed to referee and asked, “Red, Martin ready?”

Red shrugged. “He is.” Red was not fond of Martin and his clique, they were more hot air than action and annoyed the ex-Air Force DI. He really wanted to get them in his ‘didn’t qualify’ squad. It was actually referred to as the DQ squad, and they had been called the Dairy Queens, until some of the mockers had wound up in it.

Tony nodded to Red. “I’m ready anytime you are.”

“Just waitin’ on the other guy.” Red eyed Martin with disfavor. “Step up, man.”

Martin stepped onto the mats―none of that pansy boxing for them. 

Tony pulled his MMA gloves on, put his mouth piece in, then nodded to Red. 

Red watched as Martin put on light boxing gloves, a mouth piece went into his mouth, and the battle started.

Red had them face each other, bump gloves in lieu of a handshake and called, “Fight!” 

Tony took his stance and waited for Martin to do something. Martin decided that this was a sign of cowardice on Tony’s part and started to circle him. When he attacked, he charged like a bull at a red flag. Tony just stepped out of his way, stuck out his foot and tripped Martin.

Martin fell, slid clear off the mats and lay on the bare floor for a moment. He staggered to his feet, shook his head and bored back in. 

Someone yelled, “Give it up, Martin. You’re doomed.”

Martin just charged again, as if sheer persistence would make the fight his. 

Tony grinned and stepped out of the way again, allowing Martin to plow into a cluster of watchers. One of the watching men spun him around and pushed him back onto the mats again. 

Tony laughed, white teeth flashing in his tanned face. “Watch where you’re going, Martin. And ... please ... do something else, this is getting monotonous.”

So Martin tried something different. He decided, only he knew why, to try a head kick. Tony showed everyone why that only works in the movies and high-performance x-fighting. As Martin’s foot headed for his face, Tony grabbed his ankle and just held on. This left Martin off balance and hopping in a circle to keep from falling down. Tony pulled; careful not to overbalance Martin, he led the hopping man all over the mats. Then he dumped him a third time, this time by simply lifting Martin’s foot until he overbalanced and fell on his butt. 

“And let that be a lesson to you. Keep your mouth shut unless you actually have something intelligent to say.” Tony turned his back on Martin and started stripping off his gloves, convinced that the fight was over. Red had called, “Point,” after all.

But Martin didn’t seem to think the fight was over. He took a rather wild swing at Tony and hit him in the middle of his back, right between the shoulder blades. 

Tony froze then turned so quickly that no one had a chance to stop what happened next. Tony punched Martin right in the face. The only thing that saved Tony’s hand and Martin's face was the MMA gloves; unfastened though they were, they were still padded enough to protect both men.

Gibbs jumped Tony, getting between him and Martin, speaking quickly and softly. No one could hear what he said but the results were that Tony smiled briefly then let Gibbs lead him away.

Director Vance, who’d come down to see the fight, ordered two off-duty security men to get Martin and hang onto him until on-duty security could come for him. He informed Martin, in no uncertain terms, that his career was over. No one would work with a back-stabbing loud-mouth like him. Martin seemed stunned by the whole thing.

The watching agents all grumbled and muttered. Everyone was of the opinion that Martin was an idiot. The general consensus was that no one wanted to work with him, even his team lead. That man had a quick conversation with Vance and was told to clear Martin’s desk out and take his personal possessions to the main entry for collection by the now jobless man.

Leon Vance was not a stupid man; sometimes he was a bit blind and hidebound, but not stupid. He was well aware that Tony was much more dangerous than he let on. His frat-boy attitude was all smokescreen to hide his abilities, and to keep people from developing an irrational fear of him. Gibbs was much more intimidating than DiNozzo, until Tony ‘blew his fuse;’ then the taller, wider man was just plain scary.

He made his way over to the group huddled around Tony, hoping he wasn’t going to find DiNozzo injured. “How is he?”

Cosmo turned to smile at Vance. “He’s okay. We just had to separate him from Martin quickly. One of his triggers is being socked from behind. Even slapping him on the back friend-style can cause problems.”

Gibbs turned from where he was still talking Tony down. “He’s okay, but we need to get him out of here and somewhere ... smaller. More defensible. Until he’s calmed down.”

“Okay. Why don’t you take him into the trainers' office? They won’t mind. It’s not tiny but it’s small. And all of you in it at the same time will make it ... cozy, for lack of a better word.” Vance went away then, to speak to the trainers.

Gibbs nudged Tony. “AJ, come on. We’re taking this elsewhere.”

Tony sighed. “I’m okay, Boss. Just took me by surprise. He’s lucky all I did was break his nose.”

“I know. But I want you down. Don’t want you getting surprised by someone else and bustin’ them.”

Tony chuckled, “Okay, BDD. Where are we going?”

Tim, on the sidelines, but there to support his friend, turned to Dean. “BDD?”

“Big Damn Dog.” Remy grinned. “You know. From the expression, ‘If you can’t run with the big dogs, stay on the porch.’?”

Tim nodded his understanding. “Yeah. And Gibbs is a big dog.”

“Right. Come on, let’s get AJ somewhere he’s more comfortable.”

Tim agreed with that and they all moved into the trainers' office. Dean, Cosmo and Tim took positions between Gibbs and Tony and the door. Remy and Gibbs stayed close to Tony, Gibbs talking to him softly while Remy interjected, “It’s okay, AJ.” from time to time.

Red poked his head in the door. “Things okay?”

Tim glanced back then replied, “As good as can be expected. Step out.”

Red backed up and let Tim follow him out into the hall. “Can we get some coffee? That might help ground him. Hazelnut creamer, two sugars. And black for everyone else.” 

He reached for his wallet but Red snorted softly and walked off, calling over his shoulder, “I got it. Be ten.”

Tim called, “Thanks,” then went back into the office.

By the time Red returned with coffee for all of them, Tony was calmed down. Red handed out the coffee, taking the last for himself. “Okay, that was interesting. DiNozzo?”

“Mmmm?” Tony’s inquiring grumble made everyone smile.

“You okay now?” Tony nodded. “Good. And ... well, glad Martin’s a dick of the past. Made a real nuisance of himself in more ways than one. Don’t get yourself all worked up over him.”

Tony shook his head. “Not him, just ... reaction to being punched from behind. I’m fine. Just ...” he took a sip of the coffee Red had brought him. “Thanks again for the coffee.”

Gibbs patted him on the shoulder. “Want to go back upstairs, or hang here?”

Tony didn’t have to think about that. “Upstairs. Feel better at my desk. And ... I think I’ve got a handle on that case I’ve been reviewing.”

Tim relaxed, the light tone in Tony’s voice meant he’d managed to pull another save out of his ass, or somewhere.

Tony followed Gibbs up the stairs, the team followed after like baby ducks. 

They were all in their vehicles and headed for Gibbs’ place before anyone actually realized that they were gone.

.Chapter eleven

Three hours later Gibbs was contemplating his sanity. They’d gotten back to his house and the SEALs had essentially gone nuts. They were all running around like teenagers, wrestling each other, throwing a football around and eating everything in the house.

Since he, Gibbs, was cooking it, it was fine with him. He just wished Tony would calm down just a bit. He was, frankly, manic and it worried Gibbs. 

Remy settled next to Gibbs on a lounge. “He’s fine. Don’t look so worried. He just needs to burn off some adrenalin.”

Gibbs watched Tony as he tossed Dean across the grassy middle of the yard. “Okay. I’ve never seen him like this before.”

“You should see him after a mission. If he doesn’t get himself in the hospital, he’s worse.” Remy turned to watch Tony for a minute. “Oh, no. Just no, AJ, you don’t get to do that.” He got up and ambled over to grab Tony before he tried to climb one of the trees, something that was sure to lead to some sort of disaster, given Tony’s weight and the size of the tree.

Remy dragged him away, saying, “For fuck’s sake, AJ, go pound on Gibbs’ piano and stop trying to kill yourself.”

Tony just sighed. “Sorry, Remy; that idiot’s got me wound tighter than a cheap watch.” He wandered inside to play Gibbs’ piano.

The thing had been bought by Shannon so that Kelly could take lessons. It had survived three wives due to Gibbs’ frankly bull-headed insistence that it be kept in its alcove off the living room. The last one had installed a headphone system so she could play it without having Gibbs correct her mistakes. 

Gibbs foiled several attempts to unplug the headphones. He figured that, if Tony wanted them to hear him, he’d unplug the thing himself.

He went back to making burgers and hotdogs. The pot of chili on the grill made the air smell wonderful.

Gibbs kept cooking, the team kept eating. Tim checked on Tony, then Jimmy did. They both reported that Tony was absorbed in his playing and looked much calmer.

Finally Remy went in and got where Tony could see him. Tony took the headphones off. “Yeah?”

“You better eat something. The locust crew have just about eaten the grill. Gibbs is threatening to shoot anyone who eats the last of the burgers, dogs and chili.” Remy gently closed the piano keyboard. “Come on.”

Tony smiled easily. “Okay. Thanks. We better get going ... I don’t think Gibbs would actually shoot someone over a hotdog ... but we better not take chances.”

They went back out to the patio to see what was left.

What was left was plenty. Cosmo was threatening to gobble it all down, mostly to needle Gibbs. Gibbs was calmly threatening to shoot Cosmo if he did.

Tony plopped down in a chair and pulled the platter over in front of himself. “Looks good, Boss. Thanks.” He made up a cheeseburger and wolfed it down in three bites. Then he made up two chili dogs. They were gone in seconds as well. Another cheeseburger followed the chili dogs and the platter was empty. He pushed it away with a loud burp. All his teammates indulged in rude noises as well.

Gibbs just sighed. “Lord, how did I wind up with half a dozen toddlers on my hands?” But he was grinning, and he’d deny with his last breath that he’d farted. Nope, didn’t happen.

.

After that incident things went smoothly. They ran, worked out, did tai chi, yoga and so on.

When it came time to teach Jimmy how to shoot, things were just fun.

Tim was a relatively good shot. Gibbs had retrained him first thing. He shot like a Marine, but what could you expect, he’d been trained by one. 

They were surprised to find that Jimmy was comfortable with a BB gun. He admitted that he’d used a friend's when he was much younger. He also admitted that the BB gun had been exactly that, a spring-driven pump rifle that shot round copper BB’s. 

He asked the difference between what he’d shot and what he’d be shooting and was regaled with all the differences between a BB gun and the AR-15 he’d be shooting. 

He would up with a rather shell-shocked expression as he was inundated with facts, figures and specs. He managed to actually remember most of it, only asking a few questions to clear up some things. Tim also listened carefully. He knew some of this. Other things were new. 

After all the food was cleared away and the cleaning up done, Remy and Dean brought out their rifles. They then put Tim and Jimmy through the agony of repeated breakdown and assembly. Jimmy did well enough, but Tim turned out to be somewhat of a prodigy. He managed to B&A in very good time in only eight tries. 

After a thorough review of range rules and protocol, they turned their attention to handguns. Jimmy, again, did well. But Tim, intimately acquainted with his SIG-Sauer, managed to do his B&A in just over a minute. Very good time. 

Then, at nearly 2000, Cosmo brought out the cleaning kits and set both men to cleaning. He nearly had a heart attack when he saw how dirty Tim’s SIG was. Tim admitted to hating getting gun oil all over his hands.

Cosmo eyed Tim with some disgust and said, “Well, shit. A little gun oil isn’t going to kill you, a dirty gun just might.” And with that he took a huge bottle of gun oil and squirted it all over Tim. Tim didn’t say or do anything, he just stood there.

Tony, well aware of Tim’s dislike, stayed out of it. Gibbs, unaware, did too. 

Tim stood where he was told to and endured a dressing-down of epic proportions. It included such phrases as, ‘not a girl’, ‘not stupid’ and ‘expect much better’. He couldn’t believe the difference between the near-screaming dressing-down and his Father’s cold disdain. One was hurtful in the extreme; the other, expected SEAL attitude.

Jimmy eyed Tim with dismay. He was supposed to be the ‘good’ boy but there he was, standing at ease, covered with gun oil.

Dean eyed up Tim, then Jimmy. “You don’t seem to have a problem with gun oil.” The statement was a question.

“No. Not at all. Seriously? I do autopsies. There’s blood, bile, stomach acid ... and contents. And ...” he looked around at some very green faces. “Um ... sorry, sorry. Not appropriate. Never mind. Just ... let’s say that gun oil is not a problem.”

The laughter was light and friendly. Gibbs remarked. “No, don’t guess gun oil would be a problem. You want a beer?”

Jimmy thought a moment. “I’ll need a ride home. If someone will do that, sure, I’d love another.”

Gibbs handed over the bottle. “I’ll take you home. Or ... Tony?”

Tony nodded. “I’m designated. And Tim?” Tim rolled his eyes in Tony’s direction. “Not drivin’ you home covered in oil. Get over yourself.”

Tim sighed. “Yes, I’ll do just that. Can I go take a shower now?”

Tony glanced at Remy, who shrugged, then Dean, who nodded. “Go.”

Tim turned to Gibbs. “Boss?”

Gibbs waited a beat. “If you’re over your little problem, sure.” 

Tim considered that seriously for a moment. “Um ... I’m over it. Unless someone squirts it in my shorts, that is.” There was more laugher as Tim headed into the house to shower and change. He rather underhandedly left his oily clothing in the laundry room for someone else to get the oil out. But, he had to admit, the treatment had cured his aversion to oil on his hands. Not the aversion to oil anywhere else, however.

.

Another week rolled by with H2H, gunsmithing and everything else all piled onto the half-day cold-case work at NCIS. No one complained; the pressure was actually off everyone. No one expected them to gear up and head out at a second's notice, either to solve a crime or go into combat. Cold cases were a walk in the park.

Tim wondered what it might be like to actually do BUD/s but was quite sure he’d fail. 

Jimmy, on the other hand, didn’t; he was just glad to do as well as he was in this watered-down version.

.

The weekend saw them at the range. Quantico had several; most included screaming DI’s of various ranks and services. Others were supervised by a few safety officers. Tony chose one of the latter for their training. He didn’t need some over-enthusiastic DI screaming in his face. The results were usually less than satisfactory... to the DI.

Tony attached himself to Tim while Gibbs took Jimmy. The rest of the SEALs just gathered around to kibitz and bitch.

The first thing was to load the magazines. Contrary to popular usage, the component that held the ammo wasn’t a ‘clip’, it was a magazine. The term “clip” came about during WWII, as the rounds used in an M-1 were held together with a metal clip, leaving the rounds ‘bare’. The load was shoved into the orifice, leaving the clip to be discarded on the field. Using the term “clip” instead of “magazine” came about due to older shooters using the term they were more familiar with. They were used interchangeably by civilians; the military tended to discourage it.

After checking everything, and making Tim check it again, Tony okayed the next step. Gibbs did the same for Jimmy, complimenting him on his thoroughness. 

Loading the magazine wasn’t as easy as shoving rounds into it. If you weren’t careful, you’d fuck up a finger. It was nearly impossible to get the mag loaded wrong, but a blood blister was a possibility. 

Tim and Jimmy loaded, stripped, and reloaded magazines until their fingers were sore. Then they broke for lunch. 

After lunch they returned to the range. This time they were actually going to get to shoot.

Tim was sure he was going to make a fool of himself. He knew he was more than competent with a handgun, but long guns were usually reserved for the SWAT-type teams at NCIS. He had been involved in a few gun battles, but, with a long gun, he was more the ‘pray and spray’ type.

Although they were all sure that Tim knew how to be spotted, Gibbs explained it again. Jimmy was vaguely aware of how it worked and was glad of the explanation and the assurance that someone would be ‘up his ass’ every second.

Gibbs eyed Tony for a moment, “AJ, why don’t you spot someone?”

“I’m a horrible spotter. I’m a trigger man all the way. No idea why. I worked on it for ages, until some old guy named Gunnery Sergeant Hathcock told me that some people are just shooters and that’s it. I’m one of those.” Tony’s wide grin meant nothing to Tim or Jimmy. 

But someone else was a different story. Gibbs eyed him for a second then muttered, “Hathcock. Lord, that man gets around.”

Remy nodded. “That he does. So ... who’s with who again?”

Gibbs repeated, “I’m with Jimmy. AJ, with Tim. You all either help or get out of the way.”

Remy agreed to handle targets. This meant that he would be down range, behind a bunker, ready to change paper targets when they were shot out.

Dean and Cosmo said that they would load mags and be general dogsbody. 

After they got reorganized, Gibbs and Tony put Jimmy and Tim through another set of drills. They worked through the whole process of spotting and targeting. Then they actually were allowed to shoot.

Tony looked through the spotter's scope. “Okay. Down one, left two. Take windage into account and try again.”

Jimmy adjusted his aim and squeezed the trigger. The rifle bucked in his hands.

“Good. Very, very good. Again.” Tony turned his head to smile at Jimmy. 

Jimmy smiled back and fired again.

While Jimmy, knowing nothing much about guns, was doing well, Tim wasn’t. 

Tim had what some women call ‘testosterone poisoning.’ He knew how to shoot. Or so he thought.

As a consequence of this, he wasn’t listening to his spotter. Gibbs growled at him, which made him nervous, which affected his performance, which made him even more nervous. A vicious cycle that couldn’t be broken.

Dean finally broke in. “Gibbs, he’s determined to do it his way. Let him. He can’t waste more ammo than you two are already. But ... if he doesn’t listen to you, he’ll have me as spotter.”

Gibbs got up from his prone position, dusted his knees and chest off, then said, “Okay. He’s all yours. I’m about to give him a #10.” He eyed Tim with considerable disfavor. He started to say something else then just shrugged, gave Tim a fish eye and ambled off to watch Tony and Jimmy.

Dean let Tim do his thing for a mag then announced, “Okay, that’s more than enough. You’ll never get it if you don’t listen to me. And, believe me, mister, you’d better. I’m not Gibbs. I don’t have to live or work with you, so you will listen and learn ... or I’ll take you on the mats and kick your ass. Got me?”

Dean never raised his voice but Tim was very sure that he was pissed. His expression and intensity made that very clear.

“Yes, I got you. But ... Gibbs worked alone. So does Tony. Why can’t I?” Tim revealed his frustration in his tone of voice, body language and attitude.

“Don’t get attitudinal with me. Gibbs and AJ are both experts. They spent months of time learning to go it on their own. Ask either one of them if they liked it. You haven’t let off ten shots and you’re wanting to do something that takes literally months of nothing but shooting, daily. Give me, and yourself, a break.” Dean wondered if Tim was going to turn out to be one of those men who washed out at the last minute due to attitude. “Adjust your attitude, before I adjust it for you.” He pointed to the shooting mat. “Now, get down there and pay attention.” 

Tim’s stricken look made Dean feel a bit bad, but he’d feel a lot worse if he rang out. 

Tim sprawled out on the shooting mat and settled in place, rifle in hand. He made the mistake of calling it a gun, saying, “Okay, I’ve got my gun in hand, now ...”

Tony, disgusted with his attitude jumped all over him. “McGee, I sincerely hope you do not have your gun in your hand. Jacking off on the range is frowned on.”

Tim rolled on his back and looked up at Tony. His puzzled, “What?” led to Gibbs letting out a soft moan and hiding his face in his cupped hands.

Tony turned around and barked, “You got a problem, Marine?”

Gibbs smirked but replied, “Sir, no Sir. Lt. Cmd. Sir.”

Tony smirked right back, then said, “You want to do it or should I?”

Gibbs just couldn’t make it a second longer, he started laughing but managed to snort out, “No, can’t ... you.”

Tony glowered down at Tim. “Okay, here’s the skinny.” He pointed to his rifle. “That is a rifle.” He pointed to his crotch. “This is a gun.” He barked, “Stand up.”

Tim scrambled to his feet. Tony picked up Tim’s rifle. “This is your rifle.” He shoved it into Tim’s hands. He grabbed Tim’s crotch. “This is your gun.” He stepped back. “Repeat after me. This is my rifle. This is my gun. One is for fighting, the other for fun.” He made the appropriate gestures. “Repeat.” 

Tim mumbled, holding out his rifle, “This is my rifle.” He thrust out his hips, imitating the gesture Tony had shown him. “This is ...”

Tony was in his face before he could finish. “I can’t hear you!”

Gibbs interjected. “You wanna spend all your time getting that right? Or do you want to get on with this?”

Tim flushed heavily but shouted the required phrase ten times, as loudly as he could. 

Tony nodded. “Okay. Get back down there and pay attention.”

Tim opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again. “Um ... Tony? I’m sorry. Really. Can we try again? Together?”

Tony looked at Tim for a second, then nodded. “Sure. Here.” He handed Tim a bottle of water. “Drink that. Then we’ll try again.”

Tim drank his water and settled down.

This time he carefully listened to Tony’s instructions and managed to hit the paper. He spent the rest of the day shooting under Tony’s direction.

At the end of the session they compared the papers Remy brought down.

Tim had done badly for the first paper, but had gradually done better and better as the day went by.

Jimmy had done well at first but hadn’t gained ground as quickly as Tim. 

The consensus was that they would both be competent shooters, but neither one of them would ever make sharpshooter status.

Jimmy wasn’t that upset, he just said, “Well, I’ll still be able to enjoy sport shooting, which was what I was aiming for.” He grinned at his unintentional pun. “Thanks for all your help.” 

Gibbs nodded. “You’re welcome. Come on. Clean-up time.” He packed the rifle away with Jimmy’s help. 

Tim sighed; he wasn’t happy with his whole performance and said so.

Tony patted him on the shoulder. “Well, once you got over yourself, you didn’t do half bad. Never make Sharpshooter, but not bad.” He turned to Gibbs. “Want to take clean-up to your place? I’ll stop in and get some steaks.”

“Okay, sounds good to me.” Gibbs was actually beginning to enjoy the circus his house had become.

They all headed out to shower, change, get food and meet at Gibbs' house for supper.

.

The next week was another week of workouts, shooting practice, H2H training and cold cases.

The SEALs still wound up at NCIS, wandering in and out at odd times, reviewing cases and making Vance crazy. But, of the 300 some-odd cases involving Navy personnel, they’d cleared over 100, most of them by hanging around the suspects and gossiping.

Added to all that, they were now all swimming across the river at noon. 

They’d go out and dive off the pier, swim across and back, climb up the ladder at the side of the pier, then head back to NCIS for hot showers and lunch.

After work they were in the NCIS gym or at the local near Tony’s apartment.

Tim’s spread sheet kept them all on track. Tony, barking at everyone’s heels kept them on task. Gibbs just mentally sat back and enjoyed things.

The end of the week was the date of their first attempt to requalify.

Friday morning they all reported to the NCIS range with an assortment of arms that made the qualifying officer raise his eyebrows. Tony just smiled at him.

They started out with hand guns and it didn’t take them long to fire the required two magazines. The examiner took a look at the papers and put his initials in the box. “Ok, that’s that. DiNozzo, pass. Gibbs, pass. Palmer, pass. McGee, pass. Although I really don’t see any need for a morgue assistant to carry.” He looked at Palmer over his sunglasses.

Jimmy just looked back, saying, “Really now? I’ve already been shot at twice. Think about it: crime scene, the perp isn’t actually gone. Or he’s afraid I’ll find some evidence he left behind. I’d really rather be armed.”

The examiner nodded. “You know? You’re right. Sorry. Next.” The next shooter came up and the group moved on.

.

Gibbs and Tony both chose to qualify as Sniper/Sharpshooter. 

Gibbs went first and made, as expected, a perfect score.

Tony also made a perfect score.

Jimmy decided, at the last minute, to do the test. He just wanted an official evaluation of his skills. He managed a very respectable 389 out of 500. Not great, but very good. 

Tim gave the long gun test a pass. He knew he wasn’t sharpshooter material and didn’t see the need to take up the examiner's time.

They left the range in a good mood, chattering amongst themselves about who they’d rather be on a desert island with. Their bright laughter rang out, making Gibbs smile. This bunch would either be the death of him, or the life. He was seriously thinking the latter.

They were headed for the SUV’s when a voice called to Gibbs. “Hey! You wanna get the first part of the physical requal over with?”

Gibbs glanced at the examiner who had called to them. “Jeffries. Guys?” He took a quick visual vote then turned back to the examiner. “Sure. We’re all running together, but only Tony has to requalify. Tim, Jimmy and I are a bit early but ...”

Jeffries shrugged. “I’ll let you run early. Vance ... he stays out of this, mostly. So. And who are these guys?” He eyed Dean, Remy and Cosmo.

Tony did introductions while Jeffries wrote down names. “So, SEALs you say?”

Tony laughed. “We are. They’re just running to keep me company. That’s ok, isn’t it?”

“Sure. Don’t give a damn. All I got to do is time you yahoos. Let’s get to it.”

The thing that was laughable to the SEALs was, the NCIS requirements were for one sprint of 300 yards and a timed run of a mile and a half. They also had to do 20 pull-ups, 20 sit-ups, and 20 push-ups, not timed.

The instructor, used to a bunch of whining and bitching from older agents, waited for Gibbs to start. He was new and didn’t know Gibbs, Tony, or Tim from anyone else. 

Gibbs sat down on the mat that was used to protect them from the abrasive concrete. Tony, Tim and Jimmy followed.

Then Tony called the count. “Up ... Down ... up ... down ... all ... a ... round ... the ... town. Sit ... up ... lay ... down ... don’t ... want ... to ... see ... the ... DI ... frown.”

They racked the sit-ups off so quickly that the examiner nearly lost count. The only reason he didn’t was that they were sitting up in unison.

Jeffries was impressed when everyone flipped over to do pushups, without stopping to rest. Tony counted again, this time just simple numbers. 

The pull-ups were also quickly disposed of. Gibbs went first and banged them off, doing leg-lift pull-ups; his legs never dropped below 90 degrees.

Tony did the same in the same time, while Tim and Jimmy both did straight-leg pull-ups, also in record time. 

Dean, Remy and Cosmo didn’t bother TI Jeffries with pull-ups, they just stood around and shouted encouragement, bad advice and critique.

The TI checked them off, announcing, “Well, that’s that. Now we run.” He looked up from his clipboard. “Yes, we. I run with you. There was a bit of cheating with a shortcut so now ... we have to run with you. I’m not happy with it but ... there you are.” His sour expression made it clear what he thought of the whole new routine. It wasn’t like he needed to run with every group, like they were a bunch of high school kids, but rules were rules.

The course they were to run was a 1.5 mile course which zig-zagged through a few obstacles and up and down hill. It was set up to simulate, as best they could, a foot pursuit. 

Jeffries just yelled, “Start!”

Tony took lead with Gibbs right on his heels. Tim, Jimmy and the rest all formed up behind the two leaders and stuck like glue. Jeffries took eyes behind.

Tony set a pace that made Jeffries groan; they weren’t going to make the distance. Then he realized that he was dealing with SEALs. He picked up his pace and ran beside Tony. “You a SEAL?”

Tony snorted. “Thought everyone would have heard by now. I’m a SEAL all the way.”

Remy laughed then started calling cadence.

“Hey, Hey! Army, get your packs and run with me.   
We are the sons of UDT.   
Hey, Hey! Air Force, get in your planes and fly with me.   
We are the sons of UDT.   
Hey! Marine corps, get your guns and kill with me.  
We are the sons of UDT.   
Hey, Hey! Navy get your ships and drop us off.   
We are the sons of UDT.”

They all joined in, even Gibbs.

Jeffries was ready to tear out his hair; they were halfway through the run and he was starting to sweat. Tony had set a punishing pace.

Gibbs, deciding he’d had enough of this SEAL stuff, bellowed, “Now! Hey! This is how we do it in the Corps!

I was born in the woods.  
and raised by a bear.  
I gotta double set of jaw teeth  
and a triple coat of hair.  
Two brass balls,  
and a cast-iron rod.  
I’m a mean mother fucker.  
I'm a mean devil dog.  
I’m a Marine, by God.

He was answered by the whole group. “OO-RAH!”

Jeffries kept up, and kept his mouth shut, even though the chants got filthier as they ran. 

Finally, Tony barked, “One mile, one half mile. Halt!”

They stopped flat, no one stumbled, no one failed to be in line. Tony looked them all over then smiled. He turned to Jeffries with a shamefaced look. “Sorry about taking over there. What now?”

Jeffries laughed. “Don’t sweat it. Next is sprint. I wouldn’t even bother, but one does it, all do it.”

He eyed the line of men and realized that they were, more or less, in the at ease posture. He checked his clip board then said, “Okay, as I call your name, step up to the line. I’ll blow my whistle. At the signal, run to the red line and back. I’m not going to insult your intelligence by saying, ‘as fast as you can.’

There was some laughter at that. It helped lighten the mood a lot.

“Okay, DiNozzo, Gibbs.” Tony and Gibbs stepped up to the line. Jeffries blew his whistle and they were off. 

Gibbs was shorter than Tony by about three inches but it didn’t make any difference in their time, they crossed the line neck-and-neck.

Jeffries clicked his stopwatch and announced, “Well, damn. 55 seconds. Very good. Especially after a mile-plus endurance run.”

Tony laughed then said, “Chase some asshole for a dozen blocks then run out of steam at the crunch? No thanks.”

Gibbs agreed with a grunt, taking a bottle of water from Remy and chugging it. “Thanks.”

“No prob. Jimmy and Tim up next?” Remy wasn’t about to insult anyone by raving over their time. 

Jimmy grinned at Jeffries as he and Tim lined up. Tim was feeling very proud of himself, he wasn’t even winded after their endurance run. A mile and a half was barely a warm-up for someone who regularly ran six and swam across the Anacostia on a nearly daily basis.

The whistle blew and Tim and Jimmy were off. Their time wasn’t quite as good as Gibbs’ and Tony’s as they completed the run in 60 seconds. Quite a good time by anyone’s estimation.

The whole group gathered around Jeffries to hear his verdict. “Well, I’ve passed all of you. I’d pass the whole group but you’re not NCIS’ problem.” He smiled, handed out pass scrips and ambled off to brag about his ‘autopsy guy’ passing with flying colors.

Gibbs nodded, tucked all the pass cards away and announced, “Great! That’s that. Now, all we have to pass is the Defense/Offense and we’re done.”

Jimmy, well aware that he was out of the loop on some things, asked, “And what’s that?”

“Apprehension, arrest and detainment.” Gibbs chuckled at Jimmy’s blank look. “After you run them down, you have to fight ‘em, deck ‘em and cuff ‘em.”

Jimmy’s, ‘Ooh!’ made Tony laugh.

“You can do it, Gremlin. And you’ve got something going for you that we don’t.” Jimmy looked blank. “You don’t look tough.”

“Well ... um ... that’s good, right?” Jimmy glanced around.

Dean nodded. “Seriously. Very good. Fools ‘em. Then you whack ‘em and they never know what hit ‘em.”

With that comment they prepared to return to the NCIS gym for the last part of their requalifying examinations.

.Chapter twelve

The hand-to-hand trainer was a brass-balled son-of-a-bitch, or so he claimed. Gibbs doubted it as he knew he was ‘meaner, leaner and cleaner’. DI McAllister was just about to find out how bad-ass he really was.

The turnover in training officers at NCIS wasn’t too bad, considering the work load, but three of the officers had retired at the same time. Two of the new officers were good guys, but McAllister was egocentric, to say the least. And a royal pain in the keester.

As it seemed he thought he was hot shit on a silver platter, the combined team was determined to show him that he was just a cold turd on a paper plate, if that.

TI McAllister paced up and down in front of the group. “Ok, ladies, we’ll see who’s got it and who doesn’t.” He eyed Tony, who eyed him back, insolence plain in every line of his body. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Dee Nose O. Wipe that smirk off your face.”

Tony eyeballed the man like he’d like to eat him, or just chew him up and spit him back out. “Watch that attitude, or I’ll watch it for you.”

“Oh, Dee Nose O, you really think you can? Well, we’ll see about that. As I am your examiner, you’ll be facing me, instead of some drunk, teen-aged boot.” McAllister nodded his head as if that settled everything.

Remy eyed Dean. Dean just groaned and said, “Rock-Paper-Scissors you for med.”

Jimmy snorted. “Forgot about me? And I don’t think AJ’s going to need me.”

Cosmo rolled his eyes. “Not for AJ. Him.” he jerked his head at the TI. “AJ’s gonna mess him up.”

Tony turned to Gibbs. “Hey, Boss. What happens if I break the examiner?”

Gibbs shrugged. “No idea. Have at it.”

Tony turned back to the TI. “Okay, Mack All Is Ter.” His mocking of McAllister’s mispronunciation of his name made the man turn red. “Let’s get this over with.”

McAllister was dressed in NCIS exercise gear, a dark blue t-shirt and BDU pants, with soft cross-trainers, footwear more suited to mats than boots. He eyed the group. “Well! Dress the fuck out.”

There was a bit of laughter as the whole group just shed their boots, opting for bare feet. Since they were wearing some form of casual fatigues, it was good enough.

Gibbs shrugged his shoulders and twisted his neck, which popped alarmingly. “Ok, who’s first?”

McAllister glowered at this usurpation of his, supposed, prerogative. “I believe that I’ll decide that. Thank you.” He eyed the group for a moment then said, “I’ve got people here who are not on the list. Sit down, or get out. I don’t care which.” He waited while Dean, Cosmo and Remy detached themselves from the group and settled on nearby bleachers. “Good. Now.” He paced for a moment, obviously trying to off-balance his opponents. It didn’t work; in fact, everyone looked more amused than anything.

“Gibbs, Dee Nose O. Palmer, McGee.” he blinked. “Palmer? Who the fuck ...?” McAllister looked up to see Jimmy facing off with Tony. “You’re that autopsy guy.”

Jimmy turned, pushed his glasses up his nose with his middle finger then said, “I’m the Medical Examiner’s Assistant. And a doctor in my own right. The point being?”

McAllister just snorted and barked, “Gibbs, Dee Nose O, you’re up first. Begin!”

Since he was distracted Tony took the opportunity to take Gibbs down and get him in an arm lock. Gibbs slapped out, smacking the mat with his hand to indicate that he yielded. 

Tony jumped back quickly, just because Gibbs had yielded didn’t mean he wasn’t going to turn, quick as an adder, and put him down in turn.

Gibbs grinned at Tony and feinted left. Tony moved to block and got put on his ass in his turn. Gibbs got him in a seated choke hold. Tony patted his arm and relaxed.

They demonstrated a few more moves then McAllister called, “Okay, you’re both a pass. Here.” he practically threw their pass cards at them.

Tim and Jimmy took up their places and waited for the whistle to start.

McAllister barked, “Well, what are you waiting for?”

Jimmy shrugged. “A whistle? Some signal that you’re ready? Maybe? Just a thought, you know.”

McAllister sneered at him and blew a long blast on his whistle. Tim promptly dumped Jimmy on his ass. Jimmy clapped out as he was on his back with Tim sitting on his thighs. McAllister barked, “No clap out! McGee, you have to roll him over for cuffing.” Tim struggled and wrestled but Jimmy finally got him down and ready for cuffing. Tim slapped out.

They stood up, waiting for McAllister to say something.

Gibbs did instead. “Well, what are you two girls waiting for? An engraved invitation?”

Jimmy made a snatch at Tim who ducked under it. Instead of chasing Tim, Jimmy stepped back. Tim wound up chasing Jimmy, which set him up for a take-down. Jimmy got Tim in cuff position with a bit of wrestling. Tim slapped out.

McAllister called the match with two pins per man. “Okay, okay. Enough. You both pass. Here.” he threw pass cards at them them barked, “Now get out of my gym.”

They got, snickering at his disgruntled look. 

Cosmo allowed, “Dude, you should have messed him up.”

Tony shrugged. “Later. I’ll get him ... sooner or later. I just wanted to get our pass cards and get out of there. Vance’ll be happy.”

And Director Vance was very happy when Gibbs handed over all the pass cards, saying, “Read and rejoice.”

Leon Vance counted the cards, reading the names with a smile. “So, J. Palmer is qualified to carry a small arm, passed the physical requirements and the Defense/Offense exam. Why?”

Tony, fidgeting with some knick-knack, said, “Why not? He’s a good guy. It was good for him.”

“Just wondered. He is a good man. I’m looking at him to take Ducky’s place when the time comes.” Vance put the cards in the proper folders then nodded to Gibbs. “Take Mr. Palmer down to the armory and get him fitted.”

“Okay. We good?” Gibbs smirked at his sort-of friend.

“We’re good.” He smirked back. “All of us are. Very good.”

Tony laughed at the double entendre and followed Gibbs out the door.

“Great, Boss. Now what?” 

Gibbs smirked at Tony. “First, we get Dr. Palmer his arms. Then we find a case.”

“Yeah. We gonna keep up the PT?”

“You know it. I feel better than I have in ... since I got blown up the second time.” He eyed Tony. “You ever?”

“Yup. At least twice. Not sure if you count gettin’ thrown out of a PPV that ran over an IED.” Tony grinned.

“Me neither. Come on.” Gibbs led the way down to the bullpen.

They took Jimmy down to the Armory and got him set up with his service issue and carry permit. No one was the least bit surprised when the first thing he did was take it to his tiny office and clean it. He was cleaned, loaded and holstered in twenty minutes. It took him that long because he carefully inspected every piece of his weapon before he reassembled it. Gibbs approved.

.

Tim sat at his desk and grinned like a fool. He’d made it. He’d done all the PT and everything. He thought he’d keep up the PT, even if the others didn’t.

Dean settled beside him. “Dude, we’re setting up maintenance. You?”

“Count me in. I worked too hard to let it go.” Tim nodded at Dean. “New spread sheets?”

“No, the old one is fine, just set up a new page. We’ll keep a chart.” Dean leaned over Tim’s shoulder to watch and make suggestions.

The rest of the group gathered in the bullpen to bitch and moan about things in general. Tim just listened and laughed.

Finally Cosmo asked, “Okay, Digimon, fess up. Something that really gets your goat. Or someone who really knows where the goat is tied.”

Tim shrugged. “Okay, true fact. My Father thinks I’m some sort of idiot. He’s convinced that all I have to do is try really hard and I won’t get sea sick. He’s sure it’s some sort of juvenile rebellion on my part. I swear.” He laughed sourly. “And he thinks I’m a ... what he calls ‘weak willie’.” He managed an amused smirk. “And I assure you that I’m a bit above normal size ... there.”

Everyone cracked up.

Tony eyeballed Remy. Remy poked Cosmo who kicked Dean who was sitting on the floor. Dean glanced up as the kick had been a ‘pay attention’ kick. Gibbs, noticing the byplay cleared his throat.

Tony announced, “In celebration of our passing our requal, I think we ought to go run the full confidence course on Saturday. I’ll make arrangements. Who’s in?”

Everyone was in as Gibbs had immediately called Jimmy to check.

.

The rest of the week was spent in catch-up work. A few cold cases had heated up again, thanks to the new eyes of Remy, Dean and Cosmo. 

Abby was in and out of the bullpen, forensic evidence in hand. Gibbs had stopped going down so much as he really did need to keep an eye on what was beginning to be called Gibbs’ Animal House. The SEALs could get into more trouble in two seconds than a dozen toddlers in a munitions dump. Everyone was good-humored about the pranks, and grateful for their help, but every single team lead had caught Gibbs at one time or another and begged him to put a leash on his running dogs.

Ducky was amused by all the foolishness but very impressed with his mild-mannered assistant. He was glad to see that Jimmy was finally ‘growing a pair,’ as he was going to have to be in someone’s face from time to time. An ME needed to be able to defend his findings against skeptical team heads, department heads and officious meddlers of various types. He was also very grateful that the young man had moved in with him.

Friday came and they were all looking forward to their run. Jimmy had come up from Autopsy to hang for a bit while Tony checked on their arrangements.

“Shit!” Tony slammed his phone down. 

Gibbs looked up. “What?”

“I forgot that this weekend is Graduation. All the courses are closed. All personnel are going to be at the ceremony.” Tony frowned at the floor.

“Never heard of that.” Gibbs was well aware that all the personnel associated with a training group usually attended the graduation ceremony for the group.

“Huge graduation this time. There’s not enough available personnel to man anything so training is suspended for the day.” Tony sighed. “Now what?”

Tim looked up from his computer with a slight smile. “How would you feel about taking part in the Spartan Challenge? It’s sponsored by a group you’re well aware of. I’ve got a friend on staff.”

Tony grinned. “Tim, you’re a life-saver.” His grin widened. “What flavor do you want to be?”

Tim laughed at that. “Grape. I’ll sign us up.” He tapped at his keyboard then looked up. “Gibbs, as the highest star, you’ll have to show your coin so we can get in.”

“Okay, I’ll be sure to have it.” Gibbs never went anywhere without it, nor did Tony or Ducky.

It didn’t take Tim long to finish the preliminaries and get their enrollment packets. He had to print them out on his printer as they were PDF files, but that was fine.

He handed them out, then settled to read his own. It wasn’t long before everyone was bitching and moaning about how hard the run was going to be. And Remy was a bit loud about mud. 

“I hate mud, fuck, there’s no mud in a desert. Just sand, lots and lots of sand.”

Tony swatted him in the head. “Well, it’ll make a nice change then. Shut it.”

Dean and Cosmo just exchanged glances then left. Cosmo announced, “We’ll be making up packs. Won’t need much, just hydration and medic. Doc?”

Jimmy, who gloried in two nicknames, just shrugged. “Already have a pack made up. It’s a fanny pack with just enough to stop major bleeding and that.”

The elevator closed on the last of that comment, leaving Jimmy smirking.

.

Saturday dawned with great weather, slightly cool, beautiful sun and a forecast of that continuing all day.

Tony and Gibbs both had their coins in hand as the group gathered at the check-in desk. A quick flash of metal and a credit card and they were signed up for the run.

This wasn’t a race, it was a run. Each team’s only goal was to complete the course, without losing a man, or woman in some teams. All the teams that completed the course would get a certificate of completion.

In order to be fair to all the teams, lots were drawn for the order in which they would start their run. Each team was formed up and they were sent off at intervals of ten minutes. Team Gibbs was the fourth team to go.

The run was a monster and included everything four devious Ex-SEALs and two former Marine DI’s could think up. The only thing not included was live fire. 

Every obstacle had a name, and most of the names were indicative of the skill set needed to get through it. The Tarzan Swing was self-explanatory, while the Belly Buster took a bit. The Ball Buster made sense but the Alligator Crawl didn’t, until you saw it. The Mud Pit was another that was self-explanatory. All in all the run should take about three hours and included a dozen individual challenges and four team challenges. 

They started out at a hard trot that they would maintain for the entire run. The first obstacle was a team effort. A rope was strung from one high platform to another and it was impossible for one person to get across it by himself; it took teamwork to steady the rope enough that it could be crossed.

Then there were several dodging obstacles from simple football-style tire setups to a much more complicated Stake and Bar made up of upright stakes to dodge around and through and long logs across the path that they had to jump, all in a combination that kept them, literally, hopping. 

The next group was a combination of crawling obstacles and climbing. The Tarzan swing was followed by the Alligator Crawl.

By now the whole group was beginning to sweat. Jimmy ordered a round of drinks for everyone. As the event was sponsored by Spartans and several companies, they had to use that company’s product. Therefore, their hydration packs had been ‘confiscated’ but there were several hydration stops on the course, provided by sports drink companies. They stopped at one and gulped down cups of drink. Jimmy wasn’t happy at the size of the cups and had a few words with the company man in charge.

“Look, this is a four oz sample size. It’s barely adequate. You need to supply at least eight ounces per cup.” Jimmy gulped another cup.

“It’s a sample, you’re not supposed to actually ... er ... um ...” the man trailed off as he realized that ‘just a taste’ wasn’t what was needed.

“Sure. So.” Jimmy checked. “everyone have at least four cups.”

Tony gently nudged one of the servers aside and snagged a gallon of mixed drink. He gulped down about a third then passed it to Gibbs. Gibbs did the same and passed the jug to Remy. While he was finishing that off, Gibbs snagged another and handed it to Cosmo, who also gulped down what he needed then passed on to Dean. They tossed the empty containers to the waiting company man and took off again.

After a mile or so of flat path, they came to the next group of obstacles. This bunch was a combination of team and individual equipment. The kicker was, it was easier to get through the individual obstacles by helping each other. And help they did. This got them through the third set of obstacles in good time and kept them from exhausting themselves by struggling to do things alone.

The last group was right at the finish line. It included the Mud Pit, a Barbed Wire crawl and a Slide for Life. Usually the slide was last but in this case some hard-assed SEAL decided that it should be the crawl, slide, then the pit. 

Tony took up position to lift the first strand, as was military practice, but one of the officials politely told him that it wasn’t permitted. He crawled under it and scrambled his way through the wet sand to the other end with his whole team on his heels. 

The slide for life is very simple: climb a tower on a stairway to heaven and take a cable slide down to the ground, only in this case the cable ended over the mud pit. 

Remy climbed up first, an aid at the top gave him simple instructions. “Ok, military?” Remy nodded. “Good. This slide is a bit different than you’re used to. Don’t trade ends in the middle. Just hook your arms and legs around the cable and slide down it. Do not let the cable touch bare skin. Ok? Ready? Go.” Remy got the cable in the crook of one elbow and hooked his knees over it; the aid gave him a bit of a push and he was gone. Gibbs took his place, received the same instructions and followed. The rest of the team were right on his heels.

They all landed in the mud, Remy first. He waited for the rest to gather before heading for the finish line. It was almost impossible; the mud was thick and sticky, sucking at their boots and legs.

Tim struggled to even lift one leg high enough to take a step. He couldn’t.

Tony looked around. “The first three groups have ground the water into the base. It’s really thick. What now?”

Remy, as the tallest, was making some headway but didn’t go far. “It’s one of those.”

Tony nodded. “Someone’s going to have to lay down in this mess and let the next guy walk over him, then lay down too. We’ll get a man to the bank and then make a chain.”

Tim just lay down. “I’ll be first. I’m light.”

Jimmy just walked over him and lay down too. “I’d suggest the next man crawl. A foot in the gut isn’t a good idea.”

Dean just knelt down and crawled over Tim then Jimmy and settled next.

It worked like a charm. Remy, as heaviest next to Tony, took anchor and they chained themselves out of the mud in record time.

They all dragged themselves out of the pit and onto solid, dry ground and just lay there for a moment. Then Tony got to his feet. “Well, come on. Let’s finish this bitch.”

They took about ten seconds to get to the finish line, actually coming in second as they’d passed two groups that had started before them. 

They were met by a group of Navy higher-ups, the staff of an Admiral who’d found out that they were enrolled in the run. Tony sighed. “Well, fuck. I was hoping to avoid this sort of shit. Come on.”

They formed up and waited. Cosmo muttered, “Trust some brass-hat to keep us standing around, wet and muddy, while he gets promo flash.”

Just as soon as he said that the admiral's chief aid called them over. “The Admiral will see you now.”

Tim grumbled, “Well, thank you so fucking much. Dick.”

The SEALs formed up and marched over, followed by Tim, Gibbs and Jim. 

While they stood at attention the Admiral, puffed up with his own importance, informed them that he was proud to have them in ‘his’ Navy, that they were a credit to the uniform. Then he asked their names ... not that this would ever help him identify them in the future; their faces were totally obscured by the muck they'd just crawled through.

Tony performed the introductions after the Admiral had ordered, ’At Ease’.

“Master Chief Petty Officer Remiel Devereaux; Chief Warrant Officer Dean Cale, Chief Petty Officer Cosmo Richter; and I’m Lieutenant Commander Anthony DiNozzo, Jr.” Tony pointed to each of his men as he said their names.

The Admiral nodded, “Relax, gentlemen. But ...” he looked over Tony’s shoulder. “I think you’ve missed a couple.”

“They’re not enlisted, sir.” Tony glanced at the admiral’s name badge and stiffened. He pinned his gaze over the admiral’s left ear. “I can’t give any of them an order.”

“I see. But they’re running with you, so I’d like an introduction. If you would.” Admiral John McGee did his best to keep his smile polite and professional. “I’d like to meet men you feel worthy of running with the Navy.”

Tony glanced over his shoulder. He got a nod from Tim. But before he could begin, Admiral McGee put his foot in his mouth. “My son should be one of you but he’s too much the geek to even try. He works at NCIS, doing some sort of computer tech job. Big disappointment.”

The whole group stiffened then fixed their glares over the admiral’s shoulder.

Tony just motioned to Gibbs. “Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Gunnery Sergeant USMC, Retired. And my Team Lead at NCIS.” Gibbs nodded from his place behind and to one side. “Dr James Palmer, NCIS. And last, but not least, my partner at NCIS ... And one bad-ass Mother Fucker ... Tim McGee.”

Jim blinked at the admiral, but Tim just waved. “Hi.”

Admiral McGee, realizing that he’d put his foot in it big-time, tried to make the best of it. “Well, son, I hope you haven’t been wasting these fine men’s time.” He turned to Tony. “He hasn’t been bothering you?”

Tony bit his tongue to keep from making some snarky comment. “No, sir, he’s my partner, sir. I rely on him to watch my six in the field ... sir.”

Gibbs wasn’t having any of this. “Look. Tony’s over a barrel here. He’s only a Lt. Cmdr.” He shrugged, “But me? I’m a Marine and retired. Tim’s a good man. He’s a great agent and an asset in the field and out. And ... in case you’re goin’ senile ... he just completed the Spartan run. You don’t care for that boy and I don’t know why. He’s mentally and physically fit. He’s a bad-ass that I’m proud to have on my team. You don’t get to disrespect him like that. And straight to his face? Seriously?” Gibbs eyed the admiral for a moment. “You done holdin’ us up?”

Tim sighed. “Father, really. We’re all sandy, wet, muddy and tired; don’t you think that, of the two of us, you’re more bother than I am? Let them go get cleaned up.” He gave his father a disgusted look. “Go sign a requisition form or something.” And with that, he walked off to the outside showers that had been set up so that runners could rinse most of the mud off before going inside the tent that had been set up for them to shower and change in.

Admiral McGee blinked. This was not the hesitant, shy boy he’d sent off to MIT, nor the boy who’d puked all over him when he’d finally convinced him to try the seasickness shots then taken him out on his boat. This was a man. He eyeballed the group of SEALs for a moment then snarled, “Dismissed.” 

Remy led the way, double time to the shower.

Gibbs eyed the Admiral then gave him a bit of home truth. “True fact: You’re no dad to him. He calls you father. Think about it. He’s mine now, so watch yourself.” He headed for the showers, grumbling about armchair admirals and brass-hats as he went.

Jimmy eyed the admiral for a moment then just snorted, “Sir.” and followed.

Admiral McGee’s chief aide asked, “Do you want me to write them up, sir?”

“No, no I don’t. Guess they told me. Let’s get out of here.” He had the good sense to just walk away. He realized that he’d lost whatever chance he’d had of making a man of his son. He’d managed quite well, all by himself.

.

In the rinse-off, Tim leaned against the wall, holding the bar above his head that held the canvas panel. “Damn it.”

Tony touched Tim on the arm. “You okay?”

“Yes ... no ... maybe.” Tim seriously wanted to just go back out and scream at his father.

“Pick one, Probie. Then we’ll talk.” Tony knew exactly how Tim felt, his own father was just as bad.

Tim washed the mud off his clothing and out of his hair. He took that time to think. “AJ?”

“Mmm?” Tony had his face until the shower head so he just mumbled.

“In answer to your question...” everyone’s ears hung out. “Yes, I’m okay. You’re all better than he is. No, I’m not okay. I don’t think I ever really respected the man. He’s not a good father, too busy trying to make me be what he wanted, to see what I am. And ... no maybe. I’ll be fine. As soon as I’m done being mad. See?”

Tony sighed. “I do.”

Remy sighed, “If he wasn’t an admiral, I’d prank him into next month. Idiot. You’re worth a dozen of him and his staff.”

Dean was a bit more pointed. “You sure he’s your daddy? I mean, you’re so different. You’re smarter than him, for one. He’s just a rear admiral in the worst sense of the word.”

Tim grinned. “Did you know that rear admiral used to mean someone with ... non-standard sexual appetites?”

Cosmo nodded wisely. “See? Smarter. Man’s a stain on the uniform. Bean-counting come stain.”

Tim snorted. “Don’t let him upset you. I’m not going to.” He looked around. “What? I just decided. Let’s get cleaned up.”

So they showered there then went into the real showers and stripped off. They handed their stuff to Remy and Gibbs to wring out. Gibbs had a surprisingly tight grip for a man of his size. After the clothing was wrung as dry as possible, Jim shook them all out and stuffed them into a duffel. 

They then showered again, this time with soap, to get the last of the mud and grit out of ‘private’ places. As Gibbs observed, “No one is comfortable with sand up their ass.”

They dressed in casual clothing and comfortable, dry boots and went to collect their award certificates.

Tony, as team lead, was given all of them and handed them out with a flourish.

Gibbs eyed it for a moment then just put it neatly into a folder he produced from his duffel.

Everyone else also seemed to have some sort of folder for their own awards.

Jimmy smiled proudly as he read his. “Wait until Ducky sees this. He’ll be so proud.”

They left the award area and headed out to the parking lot where they’d all parked together.

Tony unlocked his SUV then grinned around. “Let’s all meet at O’Shay’s for a beer and some pizza.”

The general consensus was that they’d all worked hard and deserved a beer or four.

They drove off in a cavalcade of black SUV’s.

.

End notes: there are several different schools of yoga. Penny most likely would do Iyengar yoga, a fairly gentle style which uses props and is easy on those who are stiffer or just less able. Tony would more likely do Bikram or hot yoga (based on Hatha). This is done in a hot room and is very intense, utilizing fast transitions to increase flexibility and stamina at the same time. I tried Hatha once and nearly collapsed. Ugh. I’m an Iyengar gal all the way. If you’re interested in better descriptions than I’ve provided, feel free to Google.

Someone asked about the name Gremlin. I don’t mean one of those cute creatures in the movie. In WWII gremlins were evil, machine-destroying creatures who would make ships sink and planes crash. Anything that went wrong that no one could figure out was blamed on them. So, Jimmy’s Gremlin is that kind. Least in sight, unassuming to look at and surprisingly dangerous.

In this world, the ‘jacket’ that everyone wears, the one with all the pockets is referred to as a blouse as that is what I was taught to call it. Also the daily uniform shirt that is worn in an office is called a blouse.

I realized, after some poking around, that most people really won’t be interested in details of the Grinder. If you are, google it, and be prepared to be awed. Ouch.


End file.
